


No Rest for the Wicked

by xspiritofthemapleleaf



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Fake AH Crew, Gang AU, Gen, M/M, Mavin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-28
Updated: 2015-09-28
Packaged: 2018-01-21 02:27:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1534250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xspiritofthemapleleaf/pseuds/xspiritofthemapleleaf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Fake AH Crew currently holds the number one spot on Austin’s (and America’s) Most Wanted as assaulters, robbers, murderers, and the harbingers of death itself. With twenty six counts of first degree murder on their heads and almost no trace of their location, the gang has it made; until the leader of the crew Geoff finds himself in debt to someone. Now to repay an old friend, the crew has a task on their hands: protect Gavin Free, a clumsy British man who can barely hold a gun. The job seems easy enough, right?<br/>There’s just one problem: Gavin is wanted for stealing twelve million dollars, and has enough enemies to keep the Fake AH Crew running for years. Together the six guys embark on their wild goose chase, all wondering the same question: who is Gavin Free really, and how did an idiot like him manage to make twelve million dollars disappear?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Heist

**Author's Note:**

> I've been planning this out for almost two months, trying to pinpoint every detail and fact. And now, here it is. I hope you enjoy :D

Locked in a vault, policemen closing around him while a bag of money was tucked under his arm, was right about the moment when Michael’s palms began to sweat.

He wouldn’t say it was the first time he’d been in a situation like this. He remembered Austin, back when they hadn’t gone national yet, and his gun skills had only just begun to blossom. Back then, the AH Crew only robbed convenience stores and the occasional apartment, and nearly every heist ended with someone hurt, and at least three innocents dead.

Geoff didn’t have his stupid moustache then, and he drank enough to kill a normal person. He’d order them around like he actually knew what the fuck to do, and Jack would politely suggest better, educated ideas. Ray could barely function without a gun strapped to his side, and he was always perched on a building somewhere. And they’d just found Ryan, and caused ten times the more casualties when they put a gun in his hands. It was a wonder they weren’t caught in their early days, how inexperienced they were.

Still inexperienced, it seemed. The art of bank-robbing did become easier over time, but there were always flukes, holes in the plan that they had failed to predict. Like right now, for example. Ryan was supposed to tear down the security system of the building five minutes ago.

Michael huffed in frustration, pounding a fist on the heavy titanium door of the vault. A solid ten inches thick, and reinforced with some complicated metal Ryan had mentioned to him earlier. Yeah, there’d be no way to escape this even with all the C4s in the world.

Michael reached finger up to his ear, hitting the small button on his earpiece. “Let’s go, Ryan! I don’t got all day!” he shouted, frustration beginning to take over in him. It was quiet in the vault, but somewhere in the distance he heard what sounded like an explosion. He wondered briefly how Geoff and Ray were doing covering him. He hoped they were alright.

Ryan’s static voice answered seconds later. “I’m trying! The system’s autolocked! I’m tearing down the malware now!” He sounded about as irritated as Michael. The hacker had his work cut out for him, it seemed.

Gunshots echoed far off in the distance _. Shit, where were the others?_ “I’m locked inside a vault, you bitch!” Michael growled.

As if the vault understood, there was a clicking sound, and a groan as the metal door slowly opened itself. The vault room was quiet, the fighting having moved on elsewhere. “Got it,” Ryan sighed, sounding relieved.

Michael walked through quickly, stepping over the dead bodies of the guards he’d shot earlier. “Fucking Christ, finally. Jack, where you at?” Michael asked, now jogging through the bank hallways.

Jack replied instantly. “Pulling the car around now. I can hear sirens.” He sounded mildly concerned.

Michael moved to the front entrance, the gunshots getting louder. He crouched near an open doorway. “You better not scratch my baby,” he warned, only half-joking.

“There’s no way I could’ve scratched it in less than a mile, Michael.” Michael could almost picture Jack rolling his eyes. He smiled; annoying Jack was one of his favorite past times.

“There’s always a way—“

“Would you mind keeping the radio clear, dipshits?” Geoff snapped suddenly. Michael had entered the lobby now, and he crouched behind a desk as a bullet zipped over his head. Police were on the scene, it seemed.

He spotted Ray and Geoff closer to the entrance, squatting behind an information booth. Geoff was shooting blindly with a pump shotgun, his bullets hitting their mark several times as guards and police alike dropped to the ground. Next to him Ray popped his head up from time to time, pistol in hand. His sniper rifle remained strapped behind his back, useless for such a close range.

Michael knew it would only be seconds before they were overtaken. The police kept coming, and eventually their ammo would run out. Michael groped his pockets, searching for something he could use.

He snickered as he pulled out a small canister of tear gas. He pulled the pin, winding his arm back, and chucked it as far as he could.

The canister rolled right into the officers. It detonated with a hiss, and they began to drop like flies, shouting and cursing.

Geoff and Ray took advantage immediately. They laid shots in almost all of them, while Michael moved in. He took care of the rest with his SMG.

The lobby was quiet now. Geoff finally relaxed, breathing heavily. He stood up and shook his head, curled moustache bobbing. “Glad you could finally join us.”

Ray stood up slowly, wincing slightly. Michael noticed for the first time the ugly dark stain on his black shirt on his right shoulder.  “Let’s go,” Ray said ruggedly.

“Ray—“ Geoff began.

“I’m fine. Worry about me later.” Ray insisted. Michael and Geoff dropped it with reluctance.

They ran through the front doors, using their shirts to shield their eyes from the tear gas. Police cars flashed red and blue outside, abandoned for now. More sirens were heard in the distance.

And Michael’s car waited for them among them all, its chrome paintjob hard to miss even in the dead of night.

 “Go!” Geoff commanded. They sprinted as fast as they could. Jack had already vacated the front seat, reserved for the best driver. Michael quickly got in and filled the position, tossing the bag of cash to the back.

Ray hopped into the back, a small grunt escaping from him. Geoff jumped the hood in front of him, scrambling into the passenger seat. He slammed the door, looking back for a moment to check if everyone was present. He nodded at Michael, and the driver slammed on the accelerator, peeling out of the parking lot.

Michael glanced in the rear-view mirror, seeing Jack, Ryan, and Ray, all piled into the back. Everyone looked okay, and he felt relieved. He turned his eyes back to the road, now focusing on the three cop cars that had magically appeared behind him. He turned sharply to the right, following a ramp up onto the freeway. Cops wouldn’t shoot on the freeway, not with so many other cars around. He was glad they’d chosen the time they did, where darkness could conceal them and traffic could protect them.

“Your shoulder,” Jack said in the meantime to Ray, worriedly.

“It’s fine,” Ray replied instantly.

Geoff leaned forward next to Michael. He looked up through the windshield, and Michael realized he could hear helicopter blades. He glanced wearily at the searchlight off to their right, slowly closing in on them.  “We need to get to Central,” Geoff said, just as Michael passed the exit to Central.

“I just passed it—“

“Well fucking get us there, Michael!” Geoff shot back.

Michael let out a string of curses. He stiffened up and grit his teeth. “Hang on!” he shouted, jerking the wheel to the right, and car whined as it headed straight for the edge of the freeway.

Everyone screamed as they crashed through the tiny guard. There was a strange feeling of weightlessness, like the car had paused as if it were in the cartoon. Then they were falling, a hunk of metal heading for the unforgiving asphalt below.

For a terrifying moment Michael wondered if the drop had been too high, and they would explode into nothing when the car hit the ground.

There was a jolt as the car hit the road, bouncing on its shocks. Michael blinked, recovering from the blow and marveling at his own guts. Then he shook his head, stamped on the pedal, and the car lurched forward, speeding down Central.

“Fuck,” Ryan muttered in the back, breathless.

“We’re on Central,” Michael deadpanned. The sirens and chopper blades faded behind them.

Geoff peeled his head off of the dashboard, cursing under his breath every bad word that existed. “Take the frontage road. Let’s get the hell out of here,” he instructed.

Michael pulled onto an empty two-lane road, and followed it out of the city. He yawned slightly, watching the lights of Houston fade in the mirror. The road grew eerily quiet.

Sighs of relief echoed through the car. Geoff slumped back in his seat. He turned to the rest of the AH Crew to the back. “We did it, boys.”

A sound of unenthusiastic cheering came from them.

Geoff grinned. “Everyone good?”

Michael was about to ask about Ray, but Jack beat him to it. “Ray,” Jack spoke softly. “Let me see your shoulder.”

Michael glanced in mirror. Jack had already opened up a first aid kit and turned on a light, ready to tend to Ray’s wounds. Ray made a noise of compliance.

After a moment, there was a sigh. “It’s just a graze. You’ll be alright. Sore, but alright.” Michael let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in.

“Thanks Jack,” murmured Ray.

A comfortable silence loomed over them. Ryan coughed from the back. Michael heard him shift, messing with something, and the car filled with the sounds of a police scanner, right in the middle of a report.

“—stolen an uncertain amount of money. Suspects were last seen heading East on Central in a chrome Adder. Sources have confirmed it as another robbery of the AH Crew, pursuers are advised to use extreme caution. Driver confirmed to be a Caucasian male in his twenties, curly brown hair and average build—“

“Goddammit!” Michael cursed, slamming his hand on the dash.

“Oh shit, they saw you. Might’ve been from the amount of time you spent in the vault. There was a camera in there,” Ryan mused. 

“Really? You think that might’ve been important to tell me?” Michael growled.

“Hey! You were the one who didn’t want to wear masks.” Out of the corner of his eye Michael saw the silhouette of Ryan lift his hands up in the air innocently.

“It’s alright,” Geoff spoke up. “At least they don’t have an ID on you. That’s when your life becomes hell.” He leaned back, ignoring the grunt from Ryan, and put his feet on the dash. “You’ll just have to lay low for a while.”

“Perfect,” Michael grumbled. The idea of staying cooped up inside on house arrest didn’t bother him too much, but laying low was a pain in the ass he really didn’t need at the moment.

“Who’s got the bag?” asked Geoff.

“It’s by my feet, hang on,” replied Jack. He tossed it to Geoff in the front.

Geoff flipped on the light, peering into the loot bag. After a moment he spoke. “Shit.”

“How much do you think it is?” asked Ray.

Geoff giggled like a child. “Certainly better than our last heist.” He sifted through the cash. “Maybe six hundred thousand, seven.”

 “I’ll fucking take it any day,” Ray laughed.

The conversation turned to the discussion of what they were going to do with it. Ryan wanted the newest computer on the market, which apparently had a processor with a speed of 8.429GHz, whatever that meant. He also mentioned a guillotine, which earned questioning looks from everyone.

Ray wanted at least twelve thousand dollars’ worth of roses so that he could fill a room with the flowers and swim in them. Michael was pretty sure he was kidding, but Geoff changed Ray’s mind when he mentioned video games.

Jack wanted a new Jeep, exactly like the one he had so he could have an extra. He’d just gotten it back from a month in the shop, and he hated every second it was away from him.

 Geoff wanted a water slide into the swimming pool, and nothing else.

Michael finally decided he wanted to use the money to bulk up his little Bifta. Poor thing had been neglected since he’d been spending his time on his red and blue muscle car.

They all laughed at their stupid requests, settling into silence.

“Got about another two hours of driving ahead of us,” Michael told no one in particular. He yawned again; it was almost one in the morning.

Geoff stretched, chuckling to himself. “Might want to get some shuteye guys. You deserve it.”

“Like we can go to sleep now,” Jack muttered. Which was funny to Michael, since twenty minutes later the man’s snoring filled the car. One by one the rest of them flipped out like lights, all except for Ryan, would could be heard busily typing away on his laptop.

Michael wasn’t too tired; he liked driving, and frontage road he took was almost straight the whole way. He was easily cruising at ninety without too much trouble.

A thought struck him about how much he loved what he did. Sure, it was dangerous and about as bad as it could get, but he loved the rush of it. Just being out there, causing chaos with the four greatest people he knew and taking what he wanted when he wanted, left him with a feeling of satisfaction he’d never grow tired of.

“Hey Ry?” Michael spoke up.

“Yeah?” came the quiet reply.

“I think I want to do this forever,” he stated, feeling strangely sentimental. It must’ve been his tiredness.

There was a breathy sigh from the back. “I really wouldn’t mind that either,” Ryan admitted.

Michael gripped the wheel, his smile never feeling more genuine than it did then.

…

“Geoff.”

Geoff stirred from his sleep, groggily opening one eye. He was staring at Michael, body tense at the wheel of the car. His brow was furrowed.

Geoff sat up, ignoring the soreness of his back from his awkward position. He looked around, recognizing the neighborhood of their only true home. Their rather flashy house was in front of them, garage door illuminated by the headlights of their car. Beyond the home, the flashing lights of the city of Austin sparkled across the horizon. Geoff smiled; this was home.  

His smile faded as he saw that a figure stood in the headlights of Michael’s car. A black car that _definitely_ was not theirs was parked off to the side.

There was a sound of a gun cocking in the backseat. Geoff looked back, noticing that everyone was wide awake, and staring carefully at the intruder. Ryan had a gun in his hands.

“Who’s that?” Michael asked, an edge to his voice.

Geoff ticked his tongue. He loved his boys, right down to the caution they exercised. But there would be no need. He recognized the man immediately; pair of glasses and short curly brown hair. But why would _he_ be here?

“I’ll be damned,” Geoff mumbled. He turned towards the AH Crew, trying his best to hide his puzzlement. “At ease, lads. It’s Burnie.” _After almost two years,_ Geoff thought to himself.

The Crew frowned, but relaxed themselves. Michael stopped the car here; it would be safe through the night anyways.

A moment of satisfaction passed over Geoff. Being the boss had its perks, like his Crew obeying him wholeheartedly (more or less).

Geoff got out first, approaching his old friend with a strange combination of friendliness and reluctance. Behind him Jack escorted Ray to the front entrance. Ryan followed after, loot bag in one hand and laptop in other.

Only Michael remained, hesitating.

Geoff nodded at him. “You can go ahead, Michael.”

Michael shot a glare at Burnie. Then he nodded, and turned.

Burnie’s hands were in his pockets. He was smiling, despite the hostility he’d received from Geoff’s partners. But something was off, Geoff could tell. His grin wasn’t genuine, forced and fake.

Geoff approached him. He leaned against the hood of Michael’s car, slightly dented from its recent adventure. “Burnie.”

“Hey Geoff,” said Burnie.

Geoff pursed his lips. Burnie was an old friend, and one Geoff could trust. When they were younger and just starting to cause trouble, it was Burnie who bailed him out, in its most literal definition. That’s what had Geoff uneasy, though. He owed Burnie, and would always owe him. And the last time Burnie showed up, Geoff had lost almost two million dollars.

He decided to cut right to the chase. “What’s up? Why are you here at this ungodly time?” It had to be almost three in the morning.  Geoff was tired.

Burnie chuckled. “I thought you’d be happy to see an old friend.”

Geoff kicked the ground. “ ‘Course I am. Just that when you come, it’s only because you want something.” He gave an expectant look.

Burnie sighed. He held up his hands in surrender. “You got me.”

_Fucking great_. “What do you need? We just got home from a pretty big gig,” Geoff almost groaned out, losing his patience.

Burnie’s smile faded. His face grew sober. “Geoff, I need your help.”

“I know I owe you, Burns, but—“

“Please, just hear me out.” There was something in Burnie’s eyes that seemed almost desperate. Geoff nodded, curious.

“I need you to look after someone for me. Keep him under your protection for a while, just until I can find a way to smuggle him out of this country.”

Geoff blinked. This was the last thing he expected.  “What?”

Burnie raised a hand. “Geoff, it’s really important—“

“We’re criminals, not fucking bodyguards,” Geoff protested.

“Geoff, he’s just a kid.” Burnie paused, rubbing his eyes. He looked drained. “He’s got nowhere else to go. A lot of bad people are after him.” The man let out a sigh. “I wish I could tell you more.”

Geoff softened. He remembered when he first found Michael, only nineteen years old, nothing but a scared kid with a warrant on his head and no place to run. And Ray had been even younger when they found him…

_I really hope I don’t regret this,_ he thought. He nodded. “Let me see him.”

Burnie waved a hand to his car. The passenger door opened, and out came a young figure. He walked to Burnie, his timid-ness visible.

“Hey Gavin, I’d like you to meet Geoff,” Burnie said gently, placing a comforting hand on the boy’s—Gavin’s—shoulder.

Gavin looked up. His eyes were light, hair wild and clothes a little small. But otherwise he seemed like any normal boy. “Hi,” he said simply, extending a hand.

Geoff shook it. “Hello. How old are you, kid?”

“Twenty five.”

_Christ, he’s as old as Michael,_ Geoff thought. He swallowed. “You bring anything with you?”

“Just a backpack—“

“Go get it,” Geoff told him. The boy nodded, hurrying to collect his bag.

Geoff turned to Burnie, giving him a look. “I don’t know why I listen to you,” he muttered.

Burnie smiled. “Thanks, man. I owe you now, okay?”

Geoff waved him away. “Yeah, whatever.”

Gavin returned, bag slung over his shoulder. Burnie turned towards him. “Alright Gavin. You’ll be staying with Geoff for a while. Him and his guys will make sure you’re safe.”

Gavin nodded tightly. “Okay.” He looked at Burnie, who nodded. Some secret exchange passed between them.

Then Burnie turned and walked to his car. “Catch you later Ramsey. And I’ll be back for you, Gav.” With that, he got in his car, backing out of their driveway, and taking off down the road.

Geoff shook his head. He looked at Gavin, wondering what the hell he was going to do with him. The boy looked back curiously, like he was seeing Geoff for the first time.

Geoff gestured towards the house with his head, heading in that direction. “Come on.”

…

“We got a spare bed room upstairs. I’ll have Michael show it to you in a bit,” Geoff told Gavin as they walked through the front door. He closed it behind them, locking the door and setting the security system to _Armed._

In front of him, their fortress loomed. The living room was huge, with a fifty thousand dollar couch and a TV almost as big as the wall. Michael lounged comfortably on the couch, his fingers flying over an xbox controller. The TV was alive with gunshots and other sounds of the game.

They walked past Michael, through the untouched dining room complete with also untouched and very expensive china, past the glass window that showed the pool outside in all its glory.

They stopped there, pausing before they entered Geoff’s sanctuary, his beloved kitchen. He glanced at Gavin. The kid’s mouth was agape, eyes wide. Geoff grinned. “Yeah, it’s pretty impressive.”

Gavin’s faced turned red. He shut his mouth, looking down in embarrassment. “It’s very nice,” he muttered.

“We do pretty well,” Geoff began, but he stopped short. How much did Gavin know?

Gavin continued for him. He smiled sheepishly. “I can imagine. How much did you get from your most recent scandal?” he asked, almost nonchalantly.

The question took Geoff completely by surprise, and he stared at Gavin in bewilderment. They’d only committed the crime a few hours ago. How did he know about it?

Gavin sensed the unrest. His eyes found the floor again. “Sorry. It’s not my business.”

Geoff waved it off. “It’s fine. I just didn’t think you’d know.” Yet Gavin had peaked his curiosity.

Gavin nodded. “Burnie didn’t tell you much about me, huh?”

“Not really.” Geoff blinked, hearing something funny about the way Gavin spoke only for the first time. “You British?” he asked.

Gavin nodded. “Yeah.”

Geoff shrugged, entering the kitchen. Jack and Ray sat on the barstools. The former looked busy with wrapping Ray’s shoulder with a white gauze, only tsking when Ray protested. Geoff stifled a laugh. No matter the injury, it was Ray who always gave Jack the most grief. “Hey Jack. How’s Ray doing?” he asked.

Jack didn’t glance up. “Fine. He only needed seven stitches.”

Ray glared at him, a smile betraying his real feelings. “Fuck you. Those hurt.” He looked up, confusion contorting his face as he saw Gavin.

“Who’s that?” he asked slowly. Jack looked up too, frowning.

Geoff tried for a smile. “This is Gavin.” He put a hand on Gavin’s back, giving him a small nudge forward.

Gavin stepped towards them, a nervous smile overtaking his lips. “Hi.”

The other two stared. “Hi,” Ray managed.

The uncomfortable silence that followed made Geoff cringe. He knew this wouldn’t be easy. “Mind getting the others for me, Jack?” he asked, slouching into a barstool. He bit his lip. “We have something to talk about.”

…

“We don’t do this, Geoff,” came Jack’s response first. He glanced uneasily at Gavin, who sat on a stool in the corner of the room, listening silently. The rest of them gathered around the kitchen table, their distress evident on their faces.

Geoff nodded. He knew everyone would be against something like this. But he still had to try. “Yeah. Yeah I know.”

Ryan clicked his tongue. “It’s just, really unorthodox,” he began. “We have no information, no cutoff date. No whereabouts on Burnie or even a real task.” Ray nodded next to him.

Michael’s hand balled into fists on the table. “We don’t even know who this guy is. Why do we have to protect him?” He gave a pointed look at Gavin. “He seems harmless.” He sounded annoyed.

Geoff raised his hands. “Look, I know we don’t know much about any of this—“

“We know nothing about this,” Ray reminded him.

“—But Burnie’s an old friend of mine. We go way back. And I haven’t doubted him yet.” Geoff nodded, determined.

Ryan sat up in his stool. “Maybe we should ask _him._ ” He turned towards Gavin.

The kid stiffened as he felt five pairs of eyes staring at him. He shifted in his chair, eyes wide with worry.

“Why are you here, kid?” Ryan asked gently.

Gavin stared at his hands in lap. “My name’s not kid, if you don’t mind. It’s Gavin.”

Ryan nodded. “Alright. Gavin. What are you doing here?”

Gavin shrugged. “Burnie told me he’d find a place that’s safe for me.”

“Safe from what?”

Gavin stared at them blankly.

Michael cursed, turning away. “He knows nothing. Just another asshole civilian who got himself wrapped up in this,” he shot an icy glare at the “civilian”.

“Michael,” Jack warned.

Michael opened his mouth to say something, but shut it at Jack’s look. He scoffed, slumping back down in his chair.

Jack relaxed. He turned back to Geoff. “We can’t take on someone else, Geoff. We move too much.”

Geoff looked at all their faces and saw the determination in their eyes. He knew there’d be no convincing them now. He ran a hand through his hair, giving in. “I’ll call Burnie in the morning…er, later on today.” He glanced at the time now, almost 4 am.

“We’ll figure the rest out later, alright?” he said simply.

The others nodded reluctantly.

Geoff sighed. He turned to Michael, who looked about ready to punch something until he fell asleep.  “Michael, would you mind showing him the guest bed?” He couldn’t help the smirk that fell on his mouth; Michael’s short temper had gotten the best of him, and there was only one way he could learn.

Michael scowled at Geoff. But he made no sound of protest. He turned to Gavin, and kid flinched visibly. “Follow me,” Michael barked. He headed out of the kitchen, not looking behind to see if Gavin obeyed. But he didn’t need to, since Gavin scrambled after him like a lost puppy.

Geoff faced the other three. “I’m fucking tired,” he said simply. The others nodded, filtering out of the kitchen until the Boss was alone.  

And Geoff sat there, wondering what the hell he might’ve just gotten himself into.

…

From the moment Michael had seen Gavin, there was something about him that pissed him off.

Maybe it was because he wasn’t used to change, or because he was tired as fuck and ready for bed, but he could say that he disliked Gavin with a true passion. Hated him even. Something about the guy made Michael’s skin prick, his face flush an angry red, and his hands clench into white-knuckled fists.

And Michael was losing his goddamn mind about it.

There was absolutely no reason why he should hate Gavin. He did nothing wrong. The lad simply walked into their home and asked for protection. He was even kind about it, and he moved with a child-like innocence that seemed to illicit a pity response from Jack.

_I hate him_ , Michael thought, _but why the fuck should I?_

“Here.” Michael grumbled, stopping at an opening doorway near the top of the stairs. He watched as Gavin peered inside, light eyes wide as he took in the room. And Michael had to admit, it was about as nice as it could get. Pretty large bedroom with a king size bed in the middle, two sleek black dressers, a walk-in closet, and a 42” plasma. Sometimes Ray joked that the spare room was more luxurious than his.

Gavin sat down on the bed, plopping his backpack next to him. He felt the clean black comforter. “Nice.”

Michael shrugged. “It’s okay. Bathroom’s two doors down on the right. Don’t go fucking around at night,” he instructed, turning to leave.

“Your name’s Michael, right?” the guy’s accent mangled his name in a way that made Michael’s temper flare. He took a breath though, deciding it was ludicrous to get upset at the way he spoke a word.

Michael looked over his shoulder. “Yeah.”

Gavin smiled faintly. “Top. And the others?” he asked harmlessly.

Something boiled inside of Michael again, and he grit his teeth. Why did everything this guy did piss him off for no good reason? “I would get too comfortable around here. You’ll be gone in the morning,” Michael stated crudely.

Gavin shook his head, sweet smile still on his face. “I don’t think I will be.”

The curly-haired man narrowed his eyes. “What?”

“Burnie’s halfway across the country by now. He won’t be… reachable for a few days.” Gavin shook his head.

“I don’t give a shit. We’ll drop you at a bus stop,” Michael snapped.

“It’s too late for that. You’re already associated with me.” Only then, did Gavin’s smile drop. A flicker of worry flashed across his face.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“You know you’re protecting me, right?” Gavin stood up, walking to Michael until he stopped at an uncomfortably close distance. “We need to go. They’ll be here soon,” he said, voice tense.

Michael leaned closer. “Who?”

Gavin said nothing.

Michael scoffed, pulling away. “You know what? You’re full of shit. You’re a goddamn civilian who’s only gonna get in the way.” Michael spat, already heading to his own room.

“Michael, you need to—“

“Shut the hell up. I don’t need to do anything you say. Sleep well.” Michael walked into his room, a few doors down, and slammed his door shut. He ran a hand through his hair, a feeling of unease washing over him. What the hell was that?

It didn’t matter. “He’ll be gone tomorrow,” Michael muttered to himself. He never wanted to see him again and his stupid smile, ridiculous hair, and filthy accent. Didn’t even want to think of him.

He jumped onto his bed, and pulled the unmade blankets around him. Already his eyelids were closing.

So Michael went to sleep. And dreamt of nothing but Gavin.


	2. The Pursuit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Fake AH Crew currently holds the number one spot on Austin’s (and America’s) Most Wanted as assaulters, robbers, murderers, and the harbingers of death itself. With twenty six counts of first degree murder on their heads and almost no trace of their location, the gang has it made; until the leader of the crew Geoff finds himself in debt to someone. Now to repay an old friend, the crew has a task on their hands: protect Gavin Free, a clumsy British man who can barely hold a gun. The job seems easy enough, right?   
> There’s just one problem: Gavin is wanted for stealing twelve million dollars, and has enough enemies to keep the Fake AH Crew running for years. Together the six guys embark on their wild goose chase, all wondering the same question: who is Gavin Free really, and how did an idiot like him manage to make twelve million dollars disappear?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second installment. Thanks for all the feedback :D

_Kid_ , Gavin thought glumly to himself. _I’m only a child to them_.

His footsteps were soft and muffled as he tiptoed through the halls, both carpet and socks making it easy to walk quietly. “ _Don’t go fucking around at night_ ,” the short-tempered one, Michael, had told him.

Well, he wasn’t fucking around. Any normal person would be curious about the most wanted gang of the country, wouldn’t they? It was better anyways, to risk getting caught than to let those awful nightmares plague him like they did every night, seeping into his mind and waking him with clammy palms and tears streaming down his cheeks…

Gavin gulped, pushing down the thought. He was simply exploring, getting to know the people who were going to protect him for a while. Of course, they hadn’t figured that part out yet. They practically threw him under the bus nearly an hour ago. But Gavin supposed that wasn’t their fault. Burnie did seem to kind of dump him onto them.

He liked Geoff. The older man had an odd stroke of tenderness in him, and it was him who brought Gavin into their home. But there was also an air of authority around him; despite his goofy moustache and sleepy eyes, it was obvious Geoff held the power the Fake AH Crew.

And then the rest of them. Gavin wasn’t quite sure what to think of them. The tall, stocky and slightly terrifying bearded one Geoff called Jack hadn’t been scary at all; in fact he was the one tending the younger lad’s injuries. What was his name, Ray? He hadn’t said much at all, only spoke up to agree with the others. And then the other one that had interrogated him, with the icy blue eyes—Gavin shivered. Those creepy eyes hadn’t left him since the beginning, always boring into him like the guy was analyzing him like a puzzle. And then Michael…

Gavin couldn’t help but smile at the thought of him. Michael was cruel, hot-headed and unafraid to speak his mind. Even when Gavin didn’t speak, it had seemed like he had pissed off the lad in some unknown way. Well, if that was how it was going to be, then so be it. Maybe he’ll apologize tomorrow for whatever he did. The least he could do was make sure that the people in charge of protecting him _liked_ him.  

They were nice, Gavin decided. It was obvious that they cared for one another. He remembered the way Jack had been tended to Ray’s injuries, how Geoff only hesitated on defending Gavin’s behalf when the others had mentioned a possible risk. These people were cruel, but they relied on each other, like crutch to nurse the other horrible things they did.

_Not like you’re any better_ , a small voice told Gavin. _After what you’ve done…_

Gavin shook his head, and instead turned his attention to a painting framed on the wall. Drawn with smooth brushstrokes, it painted the likeness of a beach, surrounded by palm trees caught in a breeze.

With a start, Gavin realized it had been the first thing he saw hung on a wall. There were no pictures, no other framed things that would’ve given it a homely touch. He supposed that there wouldn’t be either. If someone were to discover their hideout, the first thing they’d look for was evidence of their stay.

His feet found the stairs, leading down in an L-shape to the first floor. Gavin went down them carefully, placing his feet on the edges of the steps just in case one creaked. But they didn’t, and he made it down without as much as a squeak.

He entered the living room, the enormous TV now silent. He walked through it like he had when Geoff had been showing him around, through the dining room and into the luxurious kitchen. He stared off at a door to the right of the stove, something he had seen earlier when he arrived. There was a panel on the wall next to the door, just like the one next to the front door where Geoff had pushed in a number code to arm the system. He studied it for a moment, before pressing the same buttons on it Geoff had pressed earlier. The green light next to _Armed_ flashed off.

Gavin turned the knob on the door, holding his breath.

The house remained quiet.

With a silent fistpump, Gavin opened the door all the way. He slunk through it, being careful to shut it gently as it clicked behind him.

The room was dark, and about ten degrees cooler than the inside of the home had been. Gavin shivered and patted the wall next to the door until he found the light switch. He flipped it on.

And gasped as the room filled with light.

It was a car wonderland, filled with over a dozen shining and sleek vehicles, all lined up nicely on either sides of the huge garage. Gavin’s eyes grew wide with awe and delight. There were five Biftas, all different colors, a large green jeep, a sleek brown sports car, a vintage black car with a green emblem on the hood, countless bright colored 30 thousand dollars sports cars…Gavin could go on for hours.

There was only one empty slot in the garage, and that was were Gavin assumed the chrome Adder parked outside would normally go. Even without the sleek muscle car, the collection was very impressive.

A part of him wondered how many of these were actually purchased, not stolen from some rich kid who thought his luck would never run out. But he supposed it didn’t matter. They were here now. He walked up to the nearest vehicle, a brand new Akuma motorcycle with a sleek purple paint job.

He touched the leather seat wistfully. Once upon a time this had been the motorcycle of his dreams, to speed along with nothing but the city lights behind him, to create a new life, and leave the old, dangerous life behind. He could picture it now, hurtling away into the sunset.

He smiled, throwing a leg over the seat. It was cold and cushiony like a cloud. He lean forward, hands on the handle bars, imagining the roar of the engine, the hum of the motor…

“Ahem” said a quiet voice.

Gavin nearly jumped ten feet in the air. He scrambled off of the bike, but his foot caught on the rest, and down he went, the motorcycle falling with him. Even worse, he heard the splintering sound of shattering glass.

“Bollocks,” Gavin groaned, rolling himself out from underneath the bike. He blinked at the figure towering over him.

His heart sped up as he recognized Creepy Blue Eyes Guy.

Gavin scrambled to his feet, almost sliding along the broken glass. “Sorry, I’m so sorry! I’ll pay for it, I’ll buy you a brand new one Mr--“ he frowned, “--person.”

The man rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. “It’s Ryan. And it’s alright, we could buy a hundred of them.” He studied Gavin for a moment.

Gavin shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. “So, uh...”

“What are you doing down here?” Ryan asked.

Gavin panicked, unsure of what to say. “What are _you_ doing down here?” he blurted out.

Ryan gave him a funny look. He moved forward, and Gavin flinched, sure he was going to hit him. But Ryan walked past him, grabbing the bike and standing it up again. The right mirror hung on precariously, glass no longer in the frame. “I don’t sleep,” he admitted, dusting off the seat.

Now it was Gavin’s turn to give him a funny look. “What do you mean you don’t sleep? You need sleep to live.”

Ryan turned towards him. The cold stare was gone, replaced with something softer. “Fair enough.” He shrugged. “I don’t sleep _often_ , then.” He walked past him, gesturing him to follow. “Want a drink?”

Gavin was hopelessly and utterly confused now. He went and broke this guy’s bike, and in return he’s offering him a _drink?_

“Aren’t you mad at me?” Gavin asked cautiously. He hesitated for a moment, then followed after Ryan.

Ryan shrugged again. “No. Just curious.” He led them back into the kitchen, shutting the door behind them. “I’m curious as to how you got into the garage without setting off the entire security system.” He pointed to the panel.

“Oh? That?” Gavin tried not to look guilty. “I might’ve saw Geoff punch in the code.” He smiled sheepishly.

Ryan nodded, not fazed. He moved to one of the barstools and patted it. “Have a seat.” As Gavin sat down Ryan rummaged through the cabinets, producing two glasses and a bottle of an amber liquid. “I hope you’re found of whiskey.” He poured a bit of the booze into each of their glasses, and slid one over to Gavin.

Gavin took it slowly, studying it for a moment, before taking a sip. Next to him Ryan took a long pull from glass, nearly draining the cup.

And then it hit him. Ryan was trying to make him comfortable so that he could get the information he wanted. The whiskey now tasted sour in his mouth. His pulse quickened; they couldn’t find out. If they knew, then they were already dead.

Gavin coughed, putting the glass down and pushing it away. He wouldn’t play Ryan’s games. “You’re going to interrogate me now, aren’t you?” he asked accusingly.

If Ryan was offending by his words, he didn’t show it. The man leaned over on the counter, arms resting on the granite. Then he did something unexpected. Ryan shook his head, looked at Gavin, and _laughed_.

Gavin flinched, startled by the small, gentle chuckles that seemed very contrast to the serious man. He wondered if he upset him, and now Ryan was thinking of ways to kill him, and laughing at the thought of it.

“I’m just trying to share a drink with you,” Ryan smiled brightly.

Gavin couldn’t help but smile back, but his brows knit together. This man was an absolute mystery to him.

Something buzzed in Ryan’s pocket. As Ryan reached for it, he continued. “I don’t believe in questioning. It’s tedious and repetitive, and Geoff always tells me I go too far on it.” Another smile, as if Ryan had made an inside joke. “No. If the information is truly as important as we deem, then it will come to us on its own.”

Gavin wasn’t quite sure what he meant by that, but he nodded. He wouldn’t be questioned, and that was all that really mattered.

Ryan pulled out his phone, his fingers flying across the screen. As he read something on it, his smile vanished.

Gavin watched nervously as Ryan tensed, standing up straight. If was as if someone had flipped a switch inside of him. He walked briskly to the dining room, eyes never leaving his phone.

“Ryan?”

No answer.

Gavin got out of his chair. Should he follow him?

He decided that his curiosity was larger than his fear, and he followed after.

Ryan was standing in the middle of the dining room. His brow was furrowed, and he kept glancing up from his phone to the window, searching for something. “What the fuck…” he muttered.

Gavin looked out too. He saw nothing; only the glowing lights of the pool outside stood out to him. But then something shifted. A figure, crouched on the lawn, only a silhouette in the darkness.

Gavin couldn’t breathe. They couldn’t have found him already, right? He had warned Michael, but it was only a precaution. He didn’t expect them for days at least. They couldn’t be here. There was no way.

Suddenly Ryan was moving. He slammed into Gavin, tackling him to the ground. Gavin groaned as he felt the full weight of Ryan on his stomach for a moment, anger and confusion mingling in his mind. _What the hell?_

Then the world exploded around them.

He saw it in slow-motion; the flickering orange light got closer and closer, until it crashed through the window, sending shards of glass flying. It hit the dining table, and it burst into a confetti of wood, flames curling and licking at Gavin’s face, the heat searing off his hairs. His body was thrown from the floor, Ryan’s flung elsewhere, and his head smacked against something so hard all of his senses blackened. Every part of him was on overdrive, trying to find some sort of control in this terrible chaos, but everything was deafening.

Then he felt the solid ground beneath him, and it was done as quickly as it had started.

Gavin blinked, his vision blurring in and out. His head throbbed painfully. He tried to cry out, but all he could hear was ringing. Then there was a figure in front of him. It took Gavin a couple of seconds to realize it was the lad named Ray, and he was shaking him fiercely, a look of panic etched across his face. Slowly, as if someone were turning up the volume on a remote, all of his senses returned, and Ray was screaming at him. “Get up! Move!”

 Somehow Gavin’s legs obeyed, and he allowed Ray to lead him out of the room. He heard shouting as the five men went into defense mode. “The garage! Go!” Geoff was shouting, pulling on a jacket. And then Ray led Gavin back to the garage, vehicles untouched.

 Ray left him there for a moment, and Gavin stood there, legs wobbly. He should help, do something, and yet there was nothing he could do. He had brought this upon them. And it was this thought that caused more pain on him than the now bleeding cut above his eyebrow.

The Fake AH Crew converged around him. Ray was wearing flannel pants, and Michael’s bedhead was so ridiculous Gavin would’ve laughed if he weren’t so panicked. The two lads were a strange sight, holding their weapons in their pajamas.

Geoff and Jack were more prepared, and they looked dressed somewhat. Ryan looked terrible though, covered in plaster and black. For the first time Gavin looked down at himself and recognized he looked exactly the same.

They were arguing about something, and Gavin only tuned in when he realized they were talking about him.

“We won’t have room in the double o,” Michael was saying.

Jack nodded. “Let him deal with himself.”

“We’re not just leaving him!” Ray protested.

“Everyone shut up,” Geoff snapped. He sent a sorry look at Gavin. Then he shook his head. “Fine. Split up. Michael, take Ray and Gavin. We’ll be right behind you. Let’s go!”

Everyone moved. Ray was grabbing at Gavin again, and he let himself be ushered out of the garage, through the overhead door, and into the sleek chrome sports car outside. Ray shoved them both into the back.

 “May want to buckle up,” he warned. Gavin did as he was told, deciding that he liked Ray.

Michael slammed his door, turned the key, and the car roared to life. He backed out of the driveway with razor-like precision, and then they were off, peeling down the street.

Gavin looked behind them. The green jeep he’d seen earlier was following them, and he assumed that the rest of the crew was in there. Behind them their house was smoking, flames dancing up to lick the night sky.

He had only been there for an hour.

The car suddenly lurched right, and Gavin yelped. He whirled around just in time to watch them plow through someone’s picket fence and into a backyard, heading straight for a--

“Pool!” Ray screamed.

“I see it, dick!” Michael turned the car forcefully again, and they broke through another fence, leaping back onto an asphalt road. Gavin only then understood why; behind them were two cars, small and fast, slowly approaching them. The round headlights of the jeep had vanished.

“Ray!” Michael’s voice sounded panicked.

“I got it I got it!” Ray reached under the seat. He pulled out a massive RPG that dwarfed him in comparison. He rolled down his window and aimed at one of the vehicles behind them, face deadly calm as he pulled the trigger.

Gavin watched in awe as the rocket fired in a string of smoke towards their pursuers. One of the cars exploded like a firework behind them.

“One down,” Ray said coolly.

“How many more?” Michael asked.

“Two.”

“No wait, one!” Gavin spoke up. “Your friend’s got him.” He watched as the car swerved off to side, the jeep lights appearing behind it. The other car sped up, trying to keep pace with their vehicle. There was a sound of gunshots, and the car skidded to a stop on someone’s lawn.

“Threat neutralized,” Ray stated, a small smile spreading across his face. He leaned forward, clapping Michael on the back. “Nice driving, Mogar.”

“I do my best,” Michael replied.

A beeping sound filled the car. Michael pressed a button on the dash, and the speakers echoed the static voice of Geoff. “Everyone good?” he asked.

“Good,” Ray replied.

“Where we headed, Geoff?” asked Michael.

“Guess” came the only reply.

Michael chuckled. “I could use a visit home.”

“Where are we going?” Gavin asked, head spinning.

No one answered. “Make sure Gavin’s in one piece, alright?” Geoff spoke.

“Roger that.” Michael hit a button, ending the call.

Gavin shifted in his seat anxiously. They wouldn’t tell him anything, of course not. But there was something that he did know.

He had told Michael that those people would come for them. He was right, and Michael knew that.

Gavin smirked. He couldn’t wait to dangle that over the lad’s head, that was for sure. Gavin sat back in his seat, and watched as they zipped through Austin, lights slowly becoming dimmer.

…

“They’re after Gavin,” Ryan said from the back of the jeep, wiping his face with his shirt. He felt like his bones were still rattling from the explosion, and his back ached terribly from where it made impact with the wall. But his mind was whirling, and a familiar buzz stirred inside of him, like there was something he still had yet to discover.

“Well, no shit,” Geoff scoffed. Their boss looked absolutely beaten, dark circles under his eyes from lack of sleep, moustache wilting at the corners. “He’s just one kid though.”

“So’s Michael and Ray,” Jack spoke up from the driver’s seat. He gripped the steering wheel tightly, running on only adrenaline.

Ryan pursed his lips. “You know that’s not the same.”

“You never know though.” Jack shrugged.

“Did you get a license plate, Ryan?” Geoff asked wearily.

Ryan shook his head. “No. The plates were gone.” Naturally.

Geoff cursed. “Typical. Assholes love to hide.”

Jack rubbed his eyes. They had left Austin behind them now, and nothing but blackness was ahead of them. But their destination was only a short drive ahead of them. “We need to figure out why they’re after him.”

“We’ll talk to him when we get there.” Geoff waved his hand with dismissal. Ryan watched in front of them as Michael’s infamous _00MOGAR_ took a right onto a very rural road. Jack followed close behind.

Ryan sighed, rubbing a hand through his dust-covered hair. He wished he could tell them, but he knew it wouldn’t help. What information he had pulled from a British archive six months ago could possibly convince them otherwise?

The truth was, Ryan had seen Gavin before.

It had been during a robbery of very lax convenience store. Ryan had accidently killed a British ambassador who had been in the store at the time. He couldn’t even remember the guy’s name, but somehow he’d ended up in a British archive regarding civilian casualties and British green cards.

And Gavin’s face had been plastered all over it.

Unfortunately, no amount of fake security authorization and malware deficits could bring Ryan back to that site. The archive had been obliterated, all files regarding “Gavin” under extreme measures of lock and key. He’d been working on it before he caught the lad sneaking around their house. And now with all of his equipment back at their home, he couldn’t be sure whether or not he could’ve found it.

But at least Ray had grabbed his laptop. He glanced at the silver mac next to him on the seat. If he could find anything about Gavin, and about why he was on that site, it would be of some use.

He couldn’t tell the others though. They would only want to launch question after question after Gavin, and that would only push him farther away. No, Ryan had to get Gavin to tell them on his own, and figure out why archives British and American alike had erased him from existence.

Maybe if he could get a last name…

“--he can be useful. Maybe’s he’s good with a gun, or can wire a bomb or something.” Jack was saying, snapping Ryan out of his thoughts.

“Yeah, he’s secretly the greatest criminal of all time,” Geoff agreed half-jokingly. Ryan smiled at the irony; Geoff may very well be correct.

But Ryan had noticed something that made him second-guess the idea. “I doubt it,” Ryan spoke up.

Jack frowned in the rear-view mirror. “Why?”

“Just by the way he moves.” Ryan sat up straight and explained. “You notice after a while whether or not someone’s coordinated enough to hold a gun. They hold themselves differently, walk with a bit more precision, hold their heads up higher. They hold harder expressions, even stand differently.”

“And Gavin?” Geoff raised an eyebrow.

“You saw the way Ray led him around. He was absolutely at a loss at what to do,” Ryan nodded, satisfied with his response. Gavin might be important, but his clumsiness proved it had nothing to do with a gun.

Jack huffed. “Then what? Does he know something he’s not supposed to?”

Now that was a thought. “Maybe,” Ryan mused. A whole new set of ideas flooded Ryan’s mind. It would make sense why there would be no record of him. Someone would want him eliminated for that reason.

“We’re here,” Jack said.

Ryan looked up. The old warehouse looked the same as it had every time they came here, old and abandoned, huge hangar-like doors rusted and discolored. But it was far from it.

Jack parked off to the side of the doors. As they got out of the jeep, Michael, Ray, and Gavin, approached them. Ray carried a sleek sniper rifle, and Ryan rolled his eyes as he realized it was a bright pink. Michael had his arms crossed over his chest, an angry scowl on his face. Behind them both Gavin looked down at the floor, expression almost guilty. Ryan wondered if he and Michael were getting along okay.

“Ryan, open up the doors, will you?” Geoff asked behind him.

Ryan neared the huge hangar doors. He focused his attention on a small breaker box next to it. Carefully he flipped a few switches and pressed a large red button.

The massive doors creaked loudly, and they parted at a slow pace. Behind him he heard a gasp—Gavin must not have expected it.

When the gap was large enough Ryan walked through the sliding doors, watching with satisfaction as the warehouse came to life with overhead lights, revealing all of their transportation of more drastic measures they had accumulated over the months. An army tank. A hydra jet. A cargobob. Several smaller stunt planes. Three helicopters. And their current escape plane: the black Luxor jet, worth enough money to buy them two houses like theirs in Austin, and as fast as a bullet.

“Jeebus Lorenzo,” Gavin muttered.

Ryan turned to look at him, as well as the rest of the AH Crew.

Gavin stared back at them in confusion. “What?”

“Let’s just go,” Michael grumbled, pushing past Gavin and heading for the Luxor.

Ray smiled at Gavin, patting his back. “You’re warming up to him.”

…

The plane ride would only be few hours, give or take if the weather managed to hold up, and if Ray were as good as a pilot as he claimed to be. That was a relief to everyone, so that they could resume their sleeping for a little while at least.

Not Michael, though. Naturally, Ray had decided to select him as honorary co-pilot, which included occasionally hitting a button Ray told him to hit, and making sure he didn’t nod off. Michael didn’t mind it, except for the fact that his eyes were so tired he was afraid to blink too much or he’ll fall asleep, and his mind buzzing and begging for rest.

The explosion had woken him up from a less than pleasant dream, which had to do with him chasing someone down an endless hallway. Every time he took a step it looked like the other guy was even further away. And eventually when Michael finally caught him, it was none other than Gavin, smiling that stupid smile of his.

Michael was going to set Gavin on fire soon if he didn’t get ahold of himself.

But still, the attack on their home had happened, and even worse, Gavin had warned him about it. And Michael didn’t even take it seriously. It left a pang of guilt in his stomach, like what had occurred was in some way his fault.

But then if people were after Gavin, just who the hell was he? Michael glanced at Ray, who kept his eyes on the skies. Michael knew he was thinking it, just like everyone else aboard this damn plane.

Michael heard the door to the cockpit open behind him. He turned, expecting it to be Geoff, but of course it wasn’t. Michael scowled, turning back around in his seat.

“Hi,” Gavin said quietly. “Can I come in—“

“No,” Michael snapped.

“It’s fine, just don’t touch anything,” Ray replied after, not meeting Michael’s eyes. Michael tried not to pout. He was acting a bit immature, he guessed, but Gavin pissed him off, end of story.

There was an airy silence in the cockpit before Gavin spoke again. “How long did it take you to learn how to fly this?”

Ray shrugged. “Three or four years, I guess. Been flying before I was legal.”

Gavin chuckled softly at that. “I’d like to learn how to fly.”

“It’s really easy actually. Just a lot of memorization. Reminds me of a video game.” Ray smiled even though Gavin could see him. “Maybe I can teach you one of these days.”

“Cool.”

More silence.

Michael couldn’t help but feel his patience build. He spoke up. “You’re not here for chatting about the plane. Spit it out, whatever you have to say.”

“Oh,” Gavin sputtered, as if the question caught him by surprise. Then he collected himself. “I’d like to apologize for whatever I did.”

Michael turned in his seat, narrowing his eyes. “What the fuck do you mean?”

“For…what happened back there.” Gavin looked away. “If you haven’t guessed it by now, that was my fault. Those people…they’re after me.”

Ray pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Well, we were warned about it, I guess. Our job was to protect you.” He frowned. “The question is, why though?”

“Why what?”

“Don’t play dumb,” Michael said suddenly. “Why are people chasing you?”

Gavin’s face turned a shade paler.

“Well?”

He stared back at Michael with wide eyes. “I...can’t.” Gavin blurted out. “Please. Not now. It’ll put you at risk.”

“We’re at risk anyway with you, though, aren’t we?” Ray pointed out.

Gavin shook his head. “I…I have to go.” Gavin speed-walked out of the cockpit, the heavy door shutting behind him.

Michael gave a look of disbelief. What the fuck was that?

“Michael. Look.”

Michael turned back around, eyes widening as a part in the clouds showed him the early light of the city below. A sudden longing filled him. Even though Austin had become his home, this was where he was from, born and raised before he turned bad.

Ray grinned at the look on his face. “Been a while, huh?” Ray grew up around there too, only an island away.

Michael nodded.

Ray hit a few buttons around him and pulled back on the control. The plane began an easy descent.

“Tell the others the buckle up. Welcome to New Jersey.”


	3. The Defrauder I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Fake AH Crew currently holds the number one spot on Austin’s (and America’s) Most Wanted as assaulters, robbers, murderers, and the harbingers of death itself. With twenty six counts of first degree murder on their heads and almost no trace of their location, the gang has it made; until the leader of the crew Geoff finds himself in debt to someone. Now to repay an old friend, the crew has a task on their hands: protect Gavin Free, a clumsy British man who can barely hold a gun. The job seems easy enough, right?  
> There’s just one problem: Gavin is wanted for stealing twelve million dollars, and has enough enemies to keep the Fake AH Crew running for years. Together the six guys embark on their wild goose chase, all wondering the same question: who is Gavin Free really, and how did an idiot like him manage to make twelve million dollars disappear?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the lack of update. On with the story...

The Newark Liberty International Airport was busy with its usual Tuesday schedule, with over 90 flights noted to land and over 100 flights ready to take off in a single day. Due to this, no single air traffic control specialist working could possibly know the whereabouts of every plane and planned flight. The monitoring was divided up evenly among the workers, and as long as every flight came according to the computer, no higher ranking individual would be notified.

This information was all known to Kerry Shawcross as he sat wearily at one of the tables of the food court, typing away as he hacked into the EWR database and flight schedule. Ryan had told him their expected arrival was at 7:12 am PDT, in about twenty minutes. Naturally, it was his job to assure that they had a warm welcome. He was simply glad Ryan had taught him nearly everything about hacking. Otherwise, the Fake AH Crew would turn him into a Kerry-ka-bob.

Kerry sighed, rubbing his eyes as he canceled the incoming flight from Atlanta, and neatly entered a sudden inbound flight from Austin in its place. Sorry flight 223, but you’d have to wait for New Jersey for just a few more hours.

He hit the enter key, and shut the laptop. Kerry had to admit, his job was a little rough. When the world’s most exclusive and dangerous gang offered him a place on their team, he had been ecstatic. He even went through godforsaken initiation, which he was pretty sure never existed until he showed up (he could still feel the bruises from “accidental” muggers).

But somehow, Kerry knew he’d never be as good as the original five. They were the best, ruthless and cunning. But no one thought of what happened behind the scenes. No one worried about poor little Kerry.

He glanced up at the TV on the wall near him, wincing as the news flashed images of Michael’s precious 00MOGAR across the screen. Then again, maybe he didn’t want anyone worrying about him…

His phone buzzed on the table, and he jumped, grabbing for it.

 _[Haywood]_ We’re here.

Kerry grabbed his things, packing his laptop neatly into his backpack, and slinging it over his shoulder. He began to walk to the revolving doors where new arrivals were supposed to walk out.

He saw them almost immediately, wincing slightly at the sight of them; their clothes were rumpled and expressions almost defeated. Kerry gulped. He could only hope their mood wasn’t soiled enough that it would affect him.

He greeted them with a cheery face—and immediately got all of their luggage dumped onto him. He was thankful they packed light, with only a few backpacks and a suitcase. But then again, if they packed like this, just how much trouble were they in this time?

The only somewhat content look he received was from Ryan, so Kerry walked side by side with him, sharing a few small details.

“Got a couple of monitors on your sight, but I jammed their signal,” Kerry reported, chest puffed out a little in pride.

Ryan nodded wearily. “Excellent work, Kerry. The AH mobile?”

“It’s waiting outside for you.”

Ryan nodded again, eyes off somewhere else. As Kerry followed his gaze, his eyes stopped on a new addition to the group: a tall, lanky fellow who trailed behind Geoff like a lost puppy.

No way the crew had initiated someone while he was gone, right?

“Who’s that?” Kerry asked, unafraid to show the twinge of jealousy in his voice.

Ryan gave Kerry a funny look, but he waved him off. “Long story. I’ll debrief you later.” He looked exhausted, Kerry realized. They must’ve had one hell of a fight getting here.

“Where’s the car, Kerry?” Geoff asked as they approached the sliding doors to outside.

Kerry jogged ahead, leading the way. A lot of cars were out there waiting for people to be picked up, but there was only one vehicle that stood out, a strange anachronism in a modern airport.

The Albany Roosevelt was a classic reinvented, with a sleek black paintjob modernizing the original frame of the old car. Other secrets invisible to the eye made the “AH Mobile” different from the rest: bulletproof windows, reinforced tires, and a trunk loaded with weapons. Yeah, the two foot logo on the hood was easy to spot, but to Geoff it was what made the Fake AH Crew different from other gangs. It told the world they were fearless and ready to pick a fight, waiting for someone to stand up to the ruthless team.

Kerry held out the keys to Geoff in a mock bow. “Your chariot awaits.”

Geoff’s only response was a grunt as he took the keys.

Kerry loaded everything in, eyeing the new guy as he slumped into the vehicle. Behind him Michael told him to hurry up, muttering curses under his breath.

Kerry was squished into the back with them, ignoring the piercing glare Michael gave him. In the next row Ray and Ryan stretched out, rubbing their tired eyes. And finally Geoff started the AH Mobile, Jack mumbling to him that he should take a left.

“What kind of car is this?” The new guy grumbled, hair sticking up in five different places. Kerry noticed a twinge of an accent.

“Only the classiest for some classy people, Gavin,” Geoff responded, tone surprising soft. Kerry bit his lip. “Gavin”, huh? Apparently Geoff liked him pretty well.

As if he could read Kerry’s mind, Gavin turned to Kerry and held out his hand. “Hi. ‘m Gavin.”

Kerry reached across a very cross-looking Michael and shook his hand. “Kerry.” He noted the very lax way Gavin shook, like he was hesitant about meeting him.

Michael slapped both of their hands away. “Now you’re all friends. Great. Now shut the fuck up.” He crossed his arms, looking downright murderous.

Kerry decided to keep his thoughts to himself from then on, his eyes turning to the window as the car weaved in and out of traffic, the great New York skyline slowly fading behind them.

…

“Great,” Lindsay muttered, biting her tongue to hold back a string of curses.

She watched in exasperation as the little red dot on her GPS traveled further and further from their location, taking a road straight into the heart of NJ. She wished they had made better time on their flight. Sure, it took a little while for them to find a private flight (and little more bullets to the head than Lindsay wanted), but the plane was supposed to be fast.

She glanced up, watching her partner talk to a man who owned a nice shiny sports car parked outside the airport. This was taking too long. They should just threaten the guy and be on their way.

It seemed her partner had the same idea. She saw the shine of a pistol underneath her white coat, and the man reluctantly handed over his keys. The blonde almost waltzed over to Lindsay, happy as can be. “Guess what I got?” Barbara said, jingling the keys in front of Lindsay’s face.

“Took you long enough,” Lindsay teased.

“Please. We’ll catch them.” Barbara leaned over Lindsay’s shoulder, studying the GPS. “Hmmm. We can cut them off here.” She pointed to a crossroad a ways ahead of the red dot.

Lindsay nodded, pocketing the device. She snatched the keys out of Barb’s hands. “Come on.”

The sports car was fast, and they zipped between cars, ignoring the irritated honks.  “What are they doing here?” Barbara asked, pulling her pistol out of her jacket pocket.

Lindsay shrugged. “A base, maybe. Rumor has it they have safe houses all across the country.” She knew the Fake AH Crew well. She kind of admired them, their flashy style of bankrobbing that oozed confidence and skill. She’d encountered one of their members before, and could’ve taken him. But they always traveled in a group, and more than one was out of her league.

But Lindsay had Barbara. They were both skilled in the art of guns, and with the element of surprise on their side, they could catch them. She knew it.

“But then why would they go this far to this one?” Barbara asked.

“Jersey is a pretty crowded place. Maybe they think they can use it as cover.” Lindsay wasn’t so sure though.

“Or get caught because of the millions of people searching for one of them,” Barb chuckled.

Lindsay smiled. It did sound ridiculous. “They’re not too smart, huh?”

“Nope.” Barbara grinned. “They practically paint a trail of red wherever they go too. It’s like they’re looking for trouble.”

The smile vanished from Lindsay’s face. “Yeah.” There was always the small possibility that they _wanted_ to be found.

Barbara said nothing. Finally she shifted. “You’re thinking that they’re trying to lure us out, huh?”

Lindsay nodded, gripping the steering wheel. “We should wait. Find out where they’re staying. Then we’ll take what’s ours.” She bit her lip, excitement racing through her. All they needed was Gavin. Then the incredible bounty could be theirs.

Barbara clicked a new clip into her pistol. “I like the sound of that.”

…

“Thanks a lot, Kerry.”

“No problem boss.”

Gavin watched with tired eyes as Geoff said goodbye to Kerry. He liked Kerry. Michael might’ve blatantly shown his grouchiness, but that didn’t stop them from having a conversation. Kerry had been part of the AH Crew for only several months, and he was already their main man on the inside. The police didn’t even know there was a seventh member—

Gavin flinched. He’d accidently counted himself. He wasn’t a part of them. He never could be.

But still, the way they interacted with each other made Gavin feel a twinge of jealousy. They were like a family.

He turned around, watching as the rest of the AH Crew made themselves at home in the penthouse apartment. He couldn’t believe how sleek and new it looked, like they were the first people to ever step in it. This was theirs _too?_

 “The sun is rising,” Ray deadpanned, staring out the large window that took up an entire wall. It was true; streaks of blue were already on the horizon, signaling dawn.

“And I am going the fuck to sleep,” Jack groaned, disappearing into a room.

Gavin’s eyelids grew heavy at the thought of sleep. He hadn’t slept for a couple of days, but with the nightmares that plagued him staying awake seemed like a better option.

But now, sleep sounded good. He stood in the middle of the living room, wondering where he should go to bed.

Geoff answered his question, throwing a blanket and a pillow on the couch. “Don’t have any spare bed here, Gav. Couch is all yours,” he yawned.

 Something stirred inside of him at the thought of being called “Gav.” He smiled, plopping on the couch. “Thanks.”

Geoff had already left the room. The apartment was quiet now.

Gavin fixed the pillow and pulled off his shirt and jeans. He curled up onto the couch, pulling the blanket all the way up to chin. Streaks of sunshine were starting to hit the carpet, but Gavin’s eyes were already closing…

_“Wake up.”_

Gavin’s eyes snapped open, and he sat up. “Who’s there?”

The apartment was silent.

But Gavin was sure he heard someone. He grabbed the nearest thing, a large remote, and stood up carefully. The living room was deserted, but Gavin felt a presence. Someone _was there_.

“Come out, or else,” Gavin warned, feeling pretty pathetic with just a remote in his hands.

The sharp cock of a gun behind him froze his footsteps.

 _“Hey Gavin,”_ a familiar voice said.

Gavin inhaled sharply. No. It couldn’t be. He turned around, dropping the remote as he faced his attacker. It was a face he was well familiar with, a strong jaw line and short brown hair. Brown eyes, normally filled with warmth, now cold and cruel.

It was his greatest fear, and yet he was his best friend.

“Dan,” he whispered.

Dan only pressed the pistol against Gavin’s forehead. _“Hey, B.”_

Gavin struggled to take a breath, heart racing in his chest. “How did you find me?” Where was the Fake AH Crew? Why hadn’t they heard Dan break in? A sharp pain shot Gavin’s chest as another thought hit him. “What did you do to them?”

Dan chuckled darkly. _“That’s not important. It’s not them who I’m looking for, right B?”_ His hand reached out, tapping lightly at Gavin’s right hip. _“I knew you had a poor memory, but for something so permanent…”_ He traced the ink with the tip of his finger.

The gesture should’ve been familiar to Gavin. He used to do it too, when he first got the numbers etched into his skin. They stung for almost a week after, and the way they had rubbed into the hem of his pants left the sensitive skin raw. Only four numbers, yet they caused so much trouble…

But the touch felt alien coming from Dan. Gavin shivered, pushing his hand away. He couldn’t shake the sick feeling in his stomach. “I’ll do what you want. Just don’t hurt them.”

 _“Oh. Have you gone soft, B?”_ Dan almost sneered. _“Just because some stupid gang took you in. You think they’ll take care of you? You didn’t even tell them who you are._ What _you are.”_

Tears swelled in Gavin’s eyes. “I did it for your own good! I’m sorry!”

 _BAM_.

Pain exploded in Gavin’s knee. He crumpled to the ground, staring at the gloomy face above him. “ _It’s a little late for sorry.”_ Dan shot again, and Gavin screamed as his shoulder went numb.

“Dan, please!”

_“You will always be alone.”_

_BAM._

Gavin let out a strangled cry as Dan aimed another bullet straight for his head.

“Gavin, _wake up!”_

Gavin’s eyes snapped open. He sat up immediately, only to knock his head directly into someone’s face.

“Ow, fuck.” Michael groaned, rubbing his nose.

It took Gavin a moment to realize where he was. He was still in the living room, shadows casting around the room in the light of late afternoon. Michael sat at the edge of the couch, glaring at Gavin like he was the worst person in the world. There was no sign of anyone else.

Only a dream, Gavin realized. He sniffed, suddenly feeling embarrassed. “Sorry.” He wiped under his eyes, face growing red at the thought of him crying in his sleep and Michael waking him up, like a child having a nightmare.

Michael’s face softened. “It’s alright. You’re lucky you didn’t wake up Geoff, he’d beat the shit out of you,” Michael said, running a hand through his hair. He looked different when he wasn’t wearing a scowl on his face, almost attractive.

Gavin turned away, face flushing for a new reason. He pulled the blanket back over him, remembering he was in nothing but his boxers. “Oh.”

Michael didn’t notice. He stood up, hitting a button on the wall. A line of black blinds came down, covering the window-wall. “So who’s Dan?” he asked.

Gavin sucked in a sharp breath. “What? Who?” he blurted out.

Michael raised an eyebrow at him. He sat back down on the couch, pushing Gavin’s feet off. “Calm the fuck down, dude. I was just asking. You were talking in your sleep.”

Gavin said nothing. He knew that eventually he’d have to tell them about Dan, but not now. And not with Michael to beat the shit out of him once he confessed.

Michael huffed. “So fine. Don’t tell me. Just trying to help.”

Gavin resisted the urge to point out that Michael had been everything _but_ help the moment he arrived, but choose to keep quiet for the sake of his physical health. Instead, he watched as Michael’s eyes traveled down his chest…to his right hip, where black ink peaked out of his boxers.

Gavin pulled the blanket up more, cheeks burning _again._ “What are you looking at?”

“Nothing!” Was Gavin just imagining it, or were Michael’s cheeks a little pink?

“My tattoo, yeah?” Gavin asked accusingly. He knew he shouldn’t have undressed when he went to bed, goddammit.

Michael raised another eyebrow. “Yeah. What is it?”

 _No no no._ “Just a number,” Gavin said quickly, silently pleading that Michael would drop the subject.

Michael only leaned forward. “But for what?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“Yes!”

Michael’s brows furrowed, and just like that he was back to his normal grouchy self. “Well then go the fuck to sleep.” He stood up, ignoring the yelp from Gavin when he took the blanket with him. 

Gavin watched curiously as Michael left. It was strange, but for a moment it was almost as if they were getting along. He seemed genuinely concerned about Gavin and his nightmare too.

He fell back onto the couch, sighing. "How the hell am I going to tell you?"he whispered.

The room gave him no response.

…

An hour later, Michael groaned as he heard the noises of his friends waking up.

It wasn't like he had gone back to sleep since Gavin had woke him up. The idiot had pissed Michael off too much to relax again. Even when Michael tried to be nice Gavin refused to say anything about himself. It was like he was afraid of something.

 _That might very well be the truth_ , Michael thought.

But still, he thought he could at least try to help Gavin with his bad dreams. It was something everyone in the Crew dealt with from time to time. Their hardcore lifestyles didn't exactly lull them to sleep, after all. Nightmares were rough.

But why was Gavin so worried about his? And who the hell was Dan?

It pissed him off, knowing that there was so much Gavin hadn't told them. And it seemed that the more Michael asked, the more he didn't know. Like that fucking tattoo he saw. It was distracting. How could he hold a conversation when it was right there, peaking out of Gavin's boxers, clearly visible? And he slept almost naked, too? Who does that?

Michael decided that the warmth growing on his face was from his anger, and not anything else.

Someone knocked on his door. Michael sighed, sitting up on his bed. “Come in.”

Ray opened the door, hair sticking up in many places. He rubbed his eyes sleepily. “How long have you been up?”

Michael shrugged. “Not that long.”

“I don’t blame you.” He ran a hand through his hair. “You know, after all of shit I’ve been through the past 24 hours the only regret I really have is leaving my DS in Austin,” he smiled sheepishly.

Michael laughed. “Rookie mistake.”

“Yeah,” Ray chuckled half-heartedly. “Anyways, everyone’s hungry so I think we’re gonna head out in a few and find some place to eat.”

“Great. I’m fucking starving.” Michael hadn’t even realized it until Ray said it. He hadn’t had anything to eat for nearly a day.

Ray winced. “Yeah, about that. Geoff says you can’t go.”

_“What?”_

It took Michael about five seconds to shove past Ray, stomp down the hall and enter the living room, where Geoff, Jack, and Ryan took up the couch. Michael took note of Gavin’s blanket and pillow folded neatly near the foot of Jack. Where the hell did the British moron go?

 “Nope. Sorry.” Geoff said, after he explained to Michael the reason why he couldn’t leave the apartment. Despite Michael’s protests, Geoff claimed it was a matter of safety only, that because Michael was identified clearly in the last heist, it was better to lay low. He was right, of course, but Michael wasn’t about to let him have that satisfaction. 

“Come on, Geoff,” Michael groaned.

“You’re still hot. That’s your fault.” Geoff shrugged, standing up from his place on the couch. He was newly showered, moustache curled perfectly into two half-circles. He yawned, brushing past Michael and grabbing the keys on the counter, not giving a fuck whatsoever.

The action only pissed Michael off further. “Are you shitting me? That was all Ryan’s fault.” He gestured to Ryan, who was still on the couch, tapping at his computer.

At the sound of his name he spoke up. “Hey! In my defense, I didn’t discover the cameras until _after_ you were rubbing your face all over them.” He shot a pointed look at Michael.

Michael growled. “Ryan—“

“Everybody shut the fuck up.” Geoff snapped.

Jack cleared his throat suddenly.  “We gotta leave someone here with Gavin, Michael.”

Michael had almost forgotten about Gavin for a second. He bit his lip, actually considering for a moment that maybe they _needed_ him to stay behind with Gavin.

Finally Michael let out a low whine. “Fine. Just bring me back a fucking six pack.”

Ray emerged from the hall, now fully dressed and presentable. He rubbed his eyes before putting on his glasses. “So are we going or…”

“Yes.” Geoff answered. He turned back to Michael. “Try not to beat the living shit out of him.”

“No promises,” Michael answered.

The four left just as Gavin emerged from the back hall, hair still wet from his shower. Michael held back a snarky remark; it was obvious that the guy was eavesdropping. He nodded at Michael before plopping down on the couch and fumbling for a remote to turn on the TV.

There was an awkward silence for a moment as Gavin flipped through the channels. Finally the Brit spoke up. “So what’s this place?”

Michael rolled his eyes, joining him on the couch with a huff. “An apartment.”

“But is it yours?” Gavin asked bluntly.

“We don’t steal everything we want,” Michael shot back.

Gavin bit his lip. “Sorry.”

Michael sighed. If he was going to be stuck here babysitting, he should at least try to get along.  “We have hideouts like this all over the country. Just in case someone finds out where we are, like…”

“Like in Austin,” Gavin finished.

“Yeah.” It was nothing but burnt rubble now, that was for sure. They’d put so much time into it; it truly sucked that it was gone. “That was our home. Like our _home_ home.”

There was a sharp intake of breath from Gavin. “I’m really sorry about that.”

“Why? It’s not like it’s your fault,” Michael shrugged, watching Gavin’s response closely.

“It is,” Gavin muttered.

Michael waited patiently for Gavin to continue. After a long minute, Michael bit back a groan. Gavin wouldn’t tell, of course not. He stood up, grabbing his jacket off of a chair from the dining table.

Gavin watched him curiously. “Where are you going?”

“Out for a drink.”

“But Geoff said—“

“I don’t care what Geoff said.” Michael snapped. He needed to get out, before he punched a hole in the wall. He didn’t bother grabbing a pair of keys. He knew where he was going was close enough to walk.

He opened the door, and slammed it hard behind him. Before it closed, however, something stopped it. Gavin appeared behind it, closing the door softly. He stood up straight, like has trying to be intimidating. “I’m coming with you.”

 _Fucking of course_. “Hope you got money to pay for your drink,” Michael snapped, heading to the elevator.

Gavin grinned. “You wouldn’t believe it.”


	4. The Formality

Gavin decided he liked Michael.

He followed Michael as closely as he could on the sidewalk, steering clear of other pedestrians. Michael didn’t even flinch. Instead, he continued on forward, forcing people to either move out of his way, or be moved.

Ever since their little chat earlier in the day, Gavin felt like something shifted between them. Michael didn’t loathe him anymore; maybe “tolerate” was a better word for their relationship now. And Gavin knew that he could change that to something even friendlier.

There was also something he could use to his advantage. He had brought out a soft side of Michael—one that cared, as little as it may be. If Gavin could do it again, maybe they would even be something along the lines of friends.

Michael paused for second, almost causing Gavin to smack his nose into the back of his head. He then proceeded to cross the street. Gavin followed behind him, rubbing his hands together. He didn’t have the foresight to bring a jacket, and the chills of the evening were already getting to him.

In front of them across the road was one of the saddest-looking bars Gavin had ever seen. In one of windows a neon sign spelled “OPEN”. Only one of the lights was out, so instead it looked more like “OFEN”.

Michael opened one of the doors. For the first time since they left the apartment, he glanced back at Gavin, holding the door open for him.

Gavin gave him a small smile. He stepped inside.

Gavin was enveloped in warmth, and he shivered, grateful to be out of the cold. He looked around, realizing that was probably the only thing to be grateful about. The brown walls looked dingy and old, like they’d been standing there for decades. Low, dusty lights hung from the ceiling, making it seem more like a dungeon than a bar. And then, of course, there was the actual bar. The leather on the stools was cracked and faded. Near the left, one man held down the station; a tall, tattooed individual who was slowly washing glasses. In the background, some rock song trickled into the room.

But despite all this, several groups sat in the booths. A man that looked Gavin’s age already sat at the bar.  

“Come on,” Michael muttered. Gavin swallowed, following Michael until he sat at the end of the bar, as far away as possible from anyone else. Gavin glanced around one more time, before taking a seat.

The bartender came over, eyeing them suspiciously before taking their orders. Michael ordered for both of them and sent the bartender off.

Once they’d gotten their drinks, Gavin coughed. “What is this place?”

Michael took a long drink of his beer before answering. “You could say I have a history with it. My dad used to bring me here when I was kid. We’d play that stupid pinball machine in the back until the place closed.” He pointed a thumb towards a machine near the front of the store, something Gavin had completely overlooked.

Gavin looked around one last time before saying bluntly, “It’s a dump.”

He almost smacked a hand over his mouth. He sent a worried look at Michael, hoping he hadn’t offended him. But to his surprise Michael let out a small laugh. “Yeah. Time hasn’t changed it at all.” He grinned at Gavin.

Gavin blinked, looking down and quickly taking a drink of his own beer. He’d never heard Michael laugh before. It was nice: like a warm summer breeze.

“Why are you helping me?” Gavin asked quietly.

Michael raised an eyebrow at him. “What?”

“You. The Fake AH Crew, or whatever. Why are you helping me?” It was something Gavin had wanted to know since Burnie left him with them, he realized.

Michael’s smile faded. He shrugged. “Geoff for some reason thinks you’re worth helping.”

“I guess that’s what I’m asking. Why does he think that?” Gavin leaned forward.

Michael rolled his eyes. “Dunno. I, for one, don’t think that.” He faltered for a moment, before continuing. “We have no idea who the fuck you are, or why people are chasing after you. And you still haven’t told us,” he spat.

Gavin’s mind reeled, trying to backpedal. “The more you know, the more involved you’ll be. And I don’t want to get anyone hurt.” Gavin shook his head frantically.

Suddenly Michael turned towards him. He grabbed Gavin’s arm, which was resting on the table.

Gavin flinched. He tried to pull his hand back, but Michael kept his grip on him.

Michael leaned forward, and Gavin’s eyes widened. Their faces were only inches from each other, so close that Gavin could count every freckle on Michael’s face. “I don’t know why you’re keeping up this act, like you care or something. Just admit that you don’t give a shit about us. No one does, so why would you?” Michael almost growled.

Gavin glanced around, seeing if anyone else in the bar was seeing this. No one was. It must happen often, Gavin thought.

He turned back towards Michael, yanking his arm away from Michael grasp. He rubbed his wrist. “I do!” Gavin protested.

Michael pulled back. He took another drink of his beer. “Yeah. I’m sure you do, until we can’t protect you anymore. Then we’re yesterday’s trash.” He grumbled into his glass.

A pang of hurt went through Gavin’s chest. He felt his face contort into a frown. “Why do you hate me?”

Michael scoffed. “What? I never said—“

“You didn’t need to say anything. You resented me from the start. Everyone else is okay with me, but you never even gave me the chance.” The words tumbled out of Gavin’s mouth.

Michael sighed. “This world is hell. It’s every man for himself, and you’re lucky to find a few good people who would keep you from getting stabbed in the back.” Michael’s eyes grew distant, like he was remembering something. It was obvious who he was talking about.

He scowled. “But everyone’s guilty of something. I learned that the hard way. And  _you_  are no exception.” He pointed at Gavin.

Gavin’s heart beat fast. “And what if I prove you wrong?”

“Just shut the fuck up. Forget it.” Michael waved him away angrily.

Gavin swallowed. He couldn’t lie to them anymore; he had to tell him. “I’m different, Michael, I promise. The thing is, I’m—“

“Shut up.” Michael hissed at him.

Gavin looked at him incredulously. He was just about to tell him the secret he’d been dying to know, and he was  _shutting him up_? “Wha—“

“I said shut up.” Michael said again, deadly serious. His eyes glanced behind Gavin’s shoulder. “Behind you,” he muttered.

Slowly, Gavin looked behind him.

Outside of the bar stood two policemen, carefully examining a piece of paper.

One of them pointed through the window, looking directly at Michael. They both nodded, and walked to the entrance. 

 “Shit.” Michael grabbed Gavin’s arm, but this time, there was no intimidation in it. It was a gentle grasp, firm and protective. He pulled Gavin to his feet, tugging him along to a hallway behind the bar. “Come on.”

Gavin let Michael guide him to the back, surprised that the bartender did nothing to stop them. His pulse was racing; he’d never been recognized before. What if the cops knew who  _he_  was?

“Hey you!” One of them shouted from behind them.

“Time to go!” Michael broke into a run. They sprinted through a small kitchen, and burst through the emergency exit. It took Gavin a second to realize they were in an alleyway; brick walls came up from either side of them. To the left was a tall fence that led to a street, a trash bin on the other side—and to the right, a cop car blocked their only way out.

Michael’s brow furrowed. “How—nevermind.” He shook his head rapidly, curls bouncing slightly. Then he pushed Gavin to the fence and forced him to his knees.

“Michael!” Gavin protested, turning his head around. Michael had backed up a few feet. Then suddenly he broke into a run, barreling straight towards him.

Gavin let out a squawk, and he ducked his head, sure that Michael was about to murder him.

He felt Michael’s foot on his back, and let out a yelp as the Jersey native pushed off of it with all strength. Then, two seconds later, Michael landed on the other side of the gate in a tumble. He scrambled to his feet, dusting off his pants.

Gavin stared at him, mouth agape.

Michael rolled his eyes. “Shut the fuck up.”

“I didn’t—“

“Are you coming or not?” Michael cut him off.

Gavin looked around, trying to find some place to climb over. “How?”

Michael let out an exasperated sigh as he climbed on top of the dumpster. He leaned over the fence and stretched out his hands.

Gavin grabbed them. He used the fence as leverage, scrambling up the wall as Michael hauled over. When Gavin’s leg made it over Michael let go.

Gavin’s chin hit the top of the dumpster. He groaned, rubbing the spot where it would undoubtedly bruise. “Ow.”

“It’s a good thing you weigh like three pounds.” Michael grinned. He reached into his jacket, pulling out a small magnum.

Gavin rolled his eyes, the weapon not even fazing him anymore. “Oh, shut it.”

The door suddenly burst open, and the two cops spotted them, eyes wide. “Hey!”

Michael grabbed Gavin’s wrist again, and they jumped off the dumpster, breaking into a run. They reached the street, and Michael darted to the right.

“Where are we going?” Gavin asked between breaths.

Michael looked back at him. “Motorcycle. Hidden a couple of blocks away.”

“But the apartment?”

Michael shook his head. “We can’t lead them there. We need to—“

A police car suddenly lurched into the street behind them. “New Jersey Police! Stop or we will use force!” A megaphone sounded. Gavin could feel the sirens vibrating in his skull.

Michael stopped, took a deep breath, and pointed his pistol at the car. He pulled the trigger.

The shot sounded, and the cop driving the car snapped his head back. A small hole appeared in between his eyes.

That didn’t stop the car from barreling towards them. Gavin reacted at the last second, shoving him and Michael out of the way as the police car zoomed past them. It swerved to the left, hitting a light post behind them.

Around them, people who had been in the area were running away. Some were screaming, others had their phones in the hands, probably dialing 112 or whatever emergency number this goddamn country had.

The two stood up from the ground, staring at the wreckage they’d caused. “Aw fuck.” Michael spat, looking disappointed. “Well, that’s fifty-two,” Michael said sadly.

“Fifty-two?” Gavin asked.

“Fifty-two counts of dead people on my head. And that one was another cop. Goddammit.” Michael cursed, running his hand through his hair.

Gavin sputtered for a few seconds before answering. “You’re insane.”

Michael turned towards him, a sparkle of amusement in his eyes. He didn’t notice the door on the police car open. “You should hear Ryan’s count, then.”

Behind him, the other cop in the car stumbled out and raised his gun.

“Look out!” Gavin shoved Michael over again, and the shot rang out.

Michael let out another string of curses, jumping back to his feet and sending two bullets through the cop’s head. The man fell to the ground and didn’t move again.

“Stop fucking doing that,” Michael grumbled at Gavin.

But Gavin wasn’t paying any attention to him. Instead, his hands went to his side, where a white hot pain began to spread from his torso. When Gavin brought his hand back up to his face, it was an ugly red. “Michael…”

Michael glanced over at him, and then did a double take. All frustration from his face vanished.

Gavin face formed a small frown, more annoyed than anything else. “Bloody grazed me.” He blinked; a sudden dizzy spell hit him, and he stumbled forward.

Michael caught him. “Shit. Put your arm over my shoulder.”

Without any rebuttal, Gavin did as he was told. Michael positioned Gavin so that he was leaning heavily against him. A small thought at the back of Gavin’s mind told him this was the closest they’d ever been.

“You just took a bullet for me,” Michael deadpanned, incredulous.

Gavin groaned, trying to steady himself on his feet but being none too successful. “I wish I didn’t,” he hissed.

Dimly, Gavin heard more sirens starting up in the distance. Michael shook his head, and began to lead Gavin down the street. “Fuck. Let’s go.”

…

“Ray,” Ryan mumbled.

Ray stirred his drink with his straw, listening to the drunken drawl of his friends and trying not to be bored. He looked up at the sound of his name. “Yeah?”

In the high light of the booth, Ryan’s eyes were striking. He gestured towards Geoff. “Geoff was just saying you should lighten up.”

Geoff nodded, eyes half-lidded. “Yeah. Don’t look so down, bud. I know this isn’t your thing, but give Daddy a break. It’s been a long time since I’ve gotten shit-faced,” Geoff grinned, holding up what appeared to be his third glass of booze. Ray sniffed, wincing; his breath reeked of alcohol. And Geoff hadn’t even started. The boss could hold seven glasses down, easy. They were nowhere near leaving yet, even though they’d finished their meal ten minutes ago.

Jack smiled, rolling his eyes before taking a drink of his own beer. Jack was a big man, and he could also hold his alcohol fairly well.

Ray sighed, staring down at his Dr. Pepper. He never liked drinking, and being around people who did always disconcerted him. People who drank were reckless; he’d learned that from his parents. But these were his friends, hell _,_ his _family_ , so he could tolerate their drunkenness.

He glanced over at Ryan, who was sitting next to them in their booth. At least Ryan wasn’t drinking. He was the designated driver. Ray always thought it was kind of ironic that they obeyed that law and ignored so many others, yet it was one of the few rules Geoff always demanded they follow. Don’t kill civilians unless absolutely necessary. Never bring a prostitute home with you (“you take that shit to a hotel”). Don’t drink and drive. Rules like that. They might be criminals, but even they had standards.

Ryan caught his eye, as if he sensed Ray’s agitation. He nodded at Ray, giving him a reassuring smile.

Ray nodded back, his nerves steeled just for a moment under Ryan’s gaze. He tuned into Jack and Geoff’s babbling conversation, which, Ray discovered, had found its way onto the topic of Gavin. Again.

“He has to know some shit on someone, right?” Geoff asked no one in particular.

Jack shrugged. “Maybe he’s got some cash.”

Geoff snorted. “Good. Because I wanna get paid after this.”

“He does have a lot of enemies,” Ryan chimed in.

“I know, I know.” Geoff pursed his lips, moustache shifting. “But I’ve been calling Burns for hours now. He’s off the radar. Nothing I can do about it.”

Ray sipped his Dr. Pepper, emptying the glass. Gavin  _did_  have a lot of enemies. But it seemed like he was an okay person. He didn’t try to kill any of them yet, and he did exactly what they told him to do. Plus, he annoyed the hell out of Michael, which was pretty entertaining. Ray had found himself already growing attached. Maybe after this shitfest blew over, they could even initiate him.

A waitress came by for the fifth time, asking if they’d like anything else. Her eyes widened at the amount of alcohol being consumed by the two men to their right, but Ryan reassured her before letting Geoff promptly order another round. Ray asked for another soda as well.

He passed her his empty glass, shoulder immediately protesting. He winced, backing back a groan and immediately cowering back into his seat. He glanced around to see if anyone had noticed. Lately he’d been babied by Jack and Ryan because of his wound, and he was sick of it. He could handle himself. It was just a bullet.

Jack didn’t notice, too busy watching Geoff howl with laughter at whatever they’d been talking about. But Ryan was watching him silently. His left eyebrow was raised, head slightly tilted to this side in what Ray had dubbed Ryan’s “worried look”.

“You okay?” Ryan asked gently.

Ray nodded, stretching out his shoulder in proof. “Yeah, fine. See?” The movement hurt like hell, but Ray held it still.

Ryan didn’t look quite convinced. Ray shifted in the booth; he needed to leave before the babying started up again. “I gotta use the restroom,” he muttered.

Ryan nodded, standing up so that Ray could get through. Ray slipped past, and weaved through the tables of the restaurant before finding the bathroom. He slipped into a stall, and with a little difficulty took off his shirt so he could see his shoulder.

The bandage showed no signs of bleeding, which meant the stitches were holding. But the soreness seemed to ache deep in his bones. Ray whispered a curse or two before putting his shirt on. He’d have to take a few painkillers when they got back to the apartment.

He stepped out of the stall, just patting down his shirt when a voice startled him. “Just fine?”

Ray turned around, flinching at Ryan’s sharp gaze. He leaned against the vanity, arms crossed over his chest like a parent about to scold a child.

Ray stood up straight, ignoring the heat rising to his cheeks at being caught checking his wound. “Shouldn’t you be babysitting the two children outside?”

Ryan shrugged. “They know their way home.” His face softened, a look of gentleness that Ray had only seen once or twice. It made his insides tingle. “Ray.”

“I’m fine, really,” Ray protested. He glanced around, looking to see if anyone else was in the restroom, but there was no one to be found.

Ryan approached him. “You’re sore, right?”

Ray nodded.

Ryan hummed thoughtfully. “Turn around.”

Raising an eyebrow, Ray did what he was told. His heart skipped a beat when he felt Ryan’s thumb against his back. His other hand rested on Ray’s good shoulder.

Ryan moved his thumb moved to Ray’s shoulder blade. “Here?”

Ray nodded, swallowing hard.

Ryan applied a little pressure, slowly moving his thumb in circles around the area. Ray sucked in a breath; it didn’t hurt, but it was right where he’d been aching, his wound pulling along the tendons in the area. Ray sighed and leaned into Ryan’s touch. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” Ryan answered. “You know, you can show weakness Ray. It doesn’t make anyone think less of you.”

Ray bit his lip. “Yeah, well you know.” Suddenly his reluctance to be taken care of seemed stupid.

Ryan’s thumb moved downward. “Just…don’t try to act tough all the time. It worries m—us.”

Ray’s heart skipped a heart. Ryan was going to say “me”. He was sure of it.

Suddenly Ray could feel his cheeks turning red again.

He turned around, breaking the moment. Ryan’s hand never dropped, though, still on Ray’s shoulder. “I’m okay. I promise,” Ray muttered. He looked up at Ryan, whose blue eyes were clear and wide.

Ryan nodded slowly. “I know.”

They stood like that for a moment, not breaking eye contact, and right before Ray was sure that they were about to turn into some kind of cheesy scene in a romance movie, the door to the bathroom opened.

They broke apart immediately, Ryan turning away and Ray quickly moving to go wash his hands. But to their surprise, it was Jack, his face pink and movements a little sluggish. He looked at them, and Ray knew immediately that something was wrong. Jack’s expression, despite his appearance, looked as sober as anyone.

“What is it?” Ryan asked worriedly.

Jack jerked his head in the direction outside. “You may want to see this.”

Ryan and Ray exchanged a look before following after. Just before they left the bathroom, Ray felt Ryan’s hand press to his back. The touch lingered for a moment, before dropping. Ray swallowed hard, his stomach turning inside of him.

They found Geoff not at their table, but at the bar, intently focused on the TV above them. Several others were watching as well, faces filled with curiosity.

Ray turned his attention to the TV, which was in the middle of a news segment.

“—established the sight of the suspects fleeing the bar. Police officers pursued the two men but were shot and killed. However, eyewitness accounts claim that one of the suspects was injured during the gunfight. No word on their current whereabouts, but detectives have confirmed the identity of one of the suspects as a member of the gang that infiltrated the Houston City Bank only yesterday,” the perky reporter spoke. Next to her, a picture of the bar in question appeared. Ray gulped; he knew that bar. It was Michael’s favorite.

“I’m gonna kill him,” Geoff grumbled/slurred. “If Michael isn’t dead already, I’m gonna kill his sorry ass.”

He stood up, wobbling for a few seconds before storming out of the bar.

“Shit,” Ryan muttered.

Jack sighed. “Come on. If we don’t get out there right now, Geoff’s going to try and drive home, and the last thing we need is someone else hurt because of their fucking stupidity.”

Ryan and Jack left the restaurant, and Ray followed behind them, wondering briefly what they would find when they got home.

…

Gavin was sure he was going to die.

They stumbled into the apartment, Gavin firmly holding Michael’s jacket over his wound, just like Michael had told him to not ten minutes before.  Michael lead/dragged Gavin over to the table. “Sit down on the table,” Michael ordered.

Gavin gave him a funny look. Despite the fact that his brain was fully devoted to the hole right above his right hip, he still asked the question. “ _On_  the table?”

“Yes, on the table!” Michael snapped.

Gavin did as he was told, deciding this wasn’t the time to argue.

Michael eyed Gavin pressing the jacket to his side. “Keep pressure on that. I’ll be back.” Michael disappeared into the hall.

Gavin sat there for a moment. He ignored his swimming vision and wondered briefly that if he died, what would happen? Would everyone just stop pursuing him? Would they celebrate? Would they stop chasing the Fake AH Crew?

It became harder for Gavin to breathe. Maybe it would better if he  _did_  die.

Michael came back a second later, holding a silver box. “Alright, give me this.” He grabbed his jacket and pushed it to the side, along with Gavin’s hand.

“Ack!” Gavin groaned. Michael was right; keeping pressure on his wound had been a good idea. “Bloody hell.” He looked down as his blue shirt, which was stained to a dark purple now. Gavin gasped, and turned away as his stomach lurched.

“Never had a bullet wound before, huh?” Michael asked. Gavin could almost hear the smirk on his face.

Gavin’s eyebrows knitted together, and turned back to glare at Michael. “No.”

Michael chuckled before turning his attention back to wound. He touched the area around it, tilting his head. “Take off your shirt.”

Gavin felt his face heat up.  _“What?”_

“You’re not going to bleed out on our new carpets!” Michael rolled his eyes, but his face looked red too. “Take the damn shirt off.”

Gavin did as he was told, lifting his hands up as Michael gently nudged the shirt up. Gavin winced as the shirt peeled off of his wound, the painful sensation sending black dots across his vision.

They got it off, and Gavin almost collapsed into Michael’s arms. “Ow,” he muttered.

“Hey now, you’re not going to pass out on me. I’ve been through too much shit for you to give up so quickly,” Michael grumbled, but his voice softened at the lost word.

He laid Gavin back onto the table, and Gavin blinked as the he stared almost directly into the lights overhead. He heard Michael move around and grab something before coming back into his field of view.

 “Alright.” Michael held up a small bottle. “Might want to brace yourself.”

Before Gavin could ask what the bottle contained, Michael opened it up and poured a good amount of it directly onto Gavin’s wound.

Hot, blindingly white pain fired through Gavin’s side, and he let out a piercing shout as his vision blanched for a moment.

When he blinked his eyes back open, Michael was busy wiping away the wound. The blood was almost entirely gone, and only a small insertion in Gavin’s side. It burned like someone had pressed a hot coal to it, and Gavin groaned.

Michael stopped and turned to him, eyes wide. “You okay?”

Gavin swallowed. He didn’t like the way Michael was looking at him. “Yeah. Well, no. Why?”

Michael sighed, sounding relieved. “Nothing. It’s just…you blacked out there for a second.”

Gavin’s heart pounded, and Michael shook his head, smiling. “You’re fine. And your wound’s okay too. Nothing serious. You’ll need a stitch or two.” Michael turned back, showing Gavin a needle and string.

The idea made Gavin sick all over again. “But what about the bullet?”

“Oh. I took care of that while you were out.” Michael grinned slyly. He paused for a moment, holding up the needle and threading it after one try. “Now hold still.”

Stitching was a nightmare.

Gavin refused to look, and yet he begged Michael to count down to when he was going to put it in. But before he got to 1, Michael had stitched it together.

Gavin let out a small yelp, but he stayed absolutely still as Michael tied it off.  

“You…enjoyed that, you bastard,” Gavin muttered, inspecting the surgical string that was now holding him together.

“Maybe,” Michael admitted. He finished it off, wrapping a white gauze around his torso. Once he thought it was enough, he paused.

Gavin froze. He followed Michael’s gaze, to where his tattoo peaked out of his pants. Michael’s hands were only inches from it.

Gavin watched, as Michael’s hands twitched before gently touching one of the numbers.

Gavin forced himself to remain still, his head feeling dizzy again.

 “What are these really for?” Michael asked quietly.

A small exhale escaped Gavin’s lips. He looked down at the four numbers, at Michael’s index finger gently touching the zero.

Gavin reached out, taking Michael’s hand and lifting it off from his chest so he could think properly. “It’s a date,” Gavin heard himself confess. He looked up at Michael, expecting him to get angry at his obscureness, but to his surprise, Michael was staring intently at his face.

Gavin swallowed. He took in the hundreds of freckles on Michael’s face, the small wisps of a five o’clock shadow, the crinkle in between his eyebrows from all the frowning he did. And suddenly, Gavin had an urge to lean forward and press his lips to that very spot.

 “Michael?” a voice asked.

Michael whirled around, turning and facing Geoff, Jack, Ryan, and Ray, who were standing at the doorway. Geoff and Ryan were staring at them like they’d come from another planet. Jack and Ray looked anywhere but at them, as if they were embarrassed.

There was an uncomfortable silence, and Michael stepped away from Gavin. Gavin watched as everyone’s eyes drifted to him, and more so, the bandage wrapped around his middle.

Geoff walked over to Gavin. He took one look at the bandage and glared at Michael.

“What the fuck, Michael,” Geoff seethed with anger. Up close, Gavin could see his flushed cheeks and his unsteady gait; he'd clearly been drinking, and now he was home, ready to pounce on whoever ruined his fun.

“Just went out on a stroll, Geoff. He’s fine.” Michael shrugged.

“He got shot,” Jack protested. Then he headed over to Gavin. “You alright?”

Gavin nodded frantically. He didn’t wanted Michael to get in trouble; after all, it was him who got himself injured. “I’m fine—“

“We’re supposed to protect him Michael!” Geoff roared.

“And I did! See? He’s fine.” Michael gestured to Gavin. “Actually if anyone did some protecting, it was him.”

Geoff raised an eyebrow at Gavin.

Gavin gulped. “I…might’ve…dove in front of a bullet,” he sputtered out.

“What?” Ryan frowned.

Jack sighed. “He’s fine. Michael did a good patching him up.” He put a hand on Geoff’s shoulder.

Geoff shot a dirty look at Michael. Then he let out a groan. “I fucking hate you sometimes.” He stormed out of the kitchen, muttering curses to himself.

Michael let out a loose smile, and Gavin relaxed.

“Did you get me my six pack?” Michael shouted at Geoff.

“Go fuck yourself” was the only response. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thought you deserved some fluff after sticking with me for this long. Here you go!


	5. The Defrauder II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Fake AH Crew currently holds the number one spot on Austin’s (and America’s) Most Wanted as assaulters, robbers, murderers, and the harbingers of death itself. With twenty six counts of first degree murder on their heads and almost no trace of their location, the gang has it made; until the leader of the crew Geoff finds himself in debt to someone. Now to repay an old friend, the crew has a task on their hands: protect Gavin Free, a clumsy British man who can barely hold a gun. The job seems easy enough, right?  
> There’s just one problem: Gavin is wanted for stealing twelve million dollars, and has enough enemies to keep the Fake AH Crew running for years. Together the six guys embark on their wild goose chase, all wondering the same question: who is Gavin Free really, and how did an idiot like him manage to make twelve million dollars disappear?

Ray woke up in a sweltering heat.

He wiped his face on his arm, sighing as he pushed the covers away. It seemed like the temperature had risen ten degrees since he went to sleep. His shoulder burned with pain.

Slowly, he stood to his feet, fumbling for his glasses on his nightstand and haphazardly putting them on. The night was cold and airy, like New Jersey had sucked in all the damp air from the ocean and let it linger in a lower layer of the atmosphere. Ray smiled; he grew up in this weather. The early years of his career, back when he caused trouble solo, had consisted of crisp mornings and cold pursuits. Suddenly, he was back in his apartment in the Bronx—only 19 years old—looking through the pickings of a convenience store he’d just robbed. Nothing had changed.

But now, Ray felt suffocated by the heat of his own skin. He went to his window and opened it wide. Usually, Geoff had an alarm on every door and window, but Ray liked to have his window open; he’d dismantled the lock on his a long time ago.

But even the calm breeze of the evening did little to help him then. He shuffled out of his room, and paused; he could hear the loud snoring of Jack a few doors down. The familiar sound put him more at ease, and he tiptoed to the bathroom.

Ray shut the door before turning on the light. He took off his shirt and undid his bandages in the mirror, a sickening feeling pitting in his stomach.

The wound was easily clotted by now. But the skin had yellowed around his scab.

Silently cursing, Ray fumbled through the cabinet, searching until he found a thermometer, and stuck it in his mouth.

After thirty seconds, he examined it.

102.

_Fuck,_ Ray thought. His wound was infected. That was the only possible reason why his temp would be so high, and why his skin had yellowed.

He needed to go to hospital, before it got worse. But how the hell could he do that? They were currently the most wanted criminals in the country being trailed by bunch of baddies, not to mention that no one had really left the apartment since Gavin and Michael’s little incident. The odds of him getting treated without any question was about as high as Ryan having a successful murder break. But Jack and Geoff would insist on it.

So maybe he wouldn’t tell them just yet.

Carefully he wrapped up his wound and put on his shirt. He searched through the medicine cabinet for a fever reducer, and came across an empty bottle.

There were more in the kitchen, he knew. Ray turned off the light and opened his door slowly, listening to anyone who might be awake.

The hall was silent.

Ray tiptoed down the hallway towards the kitchen. He was just about to enter the living room when he heard whispers.

Ray froze.

“—for waking you up again, really.” whispered a voice Ray dimly recognized as Gavin’s. He wanted to punch himself. He’d forgotten that the living room was where Gavin had been sleeping for the past week, and he was about to just barge in.

“It’s fine. Quit apologizing. It’s fucking annoying,” a harsh voice whispered back. Ray cocked an eyebrow. Michael?

He crouched back against the wall, curiosity overtaking common courtesy.

There was a lull in the conversation before Michael spoke up. “How’s your side?”

“Fine. It stings, but it’s fine,” Gavin replied.

Another pause. “You know, I guess I never really thanked you,” Michael mumbled.

“For what?”

“For saving my life. Twice.” Michael shifted. “You pushed me out of the way of that car, and then took a bullet for me. So, uh, thanks.” Michael coughed quietly. “And, for the record…I don’t hate you.”

“Really?” Gavin’s smile was nearly audible. “Then does that mean you like me?”

“Yeah. You’re alright.”

Gavin let out a giggle. “Michael, are you actually being nice to me?” Gavin teased.

There was the sound of a muffled slap, and Gavin yelped.

“That can change really quick,” Michael threatened.

Gavin chuckled softly. “No no no. I like it.”

“Do you?”

“Yeah. I do.”

Ray smiled to himself. This was so unlike Michael, being so soft around someone other than the Crew; he really liked Gavin. Which wasn’t so hard to see coming, after all. For the past week all Gavin did was follow Michael around the house, and strangely enough, Michael hadn’t said a word about it.

Ray turned back to the hall, deciding the pills could wait until tomorrow, and almost jumped through the roof when he saw a silhouette about five feet from him.

It took Ray about two seconds to realize it wasn’t the grim reaper coming to take him. He frowned.

Ryan flashed a toothy grin at him.

Silently cursing everything imaginable, Ray walked back into his room, not even questioning it when Ryan followed him. He closed the door quietly and turned towards the man. “What the hell are you doing up?” Ray whisper-yelled at him.

“I was going to ask you the same question,” Ryan whispered back, stepping closer. “Also, why are we whispering? You just closed the door.”

“Fine,” Ray said at a normal volume. “Now answer me.”

Ryan shrugged. “You know I don’t sleep well. And frankly, Michael would wake me up anyway with the amount of time he spends walking back and forth between his room and the living room.”

Ray frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Gavin. He…has these fits while he sleeps. Every night since the first night,” Ryan explained.

_Fits?_ Ray sighed. Nightmares were terrible, especially after all the shit they’d been through. And no one knew what Gavin had been up to, but judging by the company he drew in, it couldn’t be good. “We would hear him, though, wouldn’t we?”

“Well, we would,” Ryan agreed, “if someone didn’t wake him every time.” He smiled.

Ray’s jaw opened, understanding. It all made sense now. It was why Michael had been soft on him from the beginning.

Ray shoved him playfully. “You’re a fucking creep! If Michael knew—“

“But he doesn’t. And you were creeping too,” Ryan noted.

Ray felt his face flush. “I was…getting something from the kitchen.”

“Oh yeah? What?”

Ray opened to his mouth to tell him, but faltered, realizing it would give away his fever. “Nothing,” he decided. He realized now how close together they were. They’d gotten closer with every exchange, and now they were face to face.

Ryan’s teasing expression faded, and he glanced down, as if noticing now too. He took a step back, coughing. “How’s your shoulder?” He asked.

Ray’s heart skipped a beat. “It’s fine,” he lied.

Ryan frowned. His hand moved up and Ray bit his lip. Ryan put the back of his hand against Ray’s forehead. “You’re hot,” he commented.

“Yeah. Don’t worry about it. Just a cold I’ve had for a while.” Ray shrugged Ryan’s hand off.

“Are you sure? You need to heal fast. I don’t want—“

“Christ, Ryan, you’re worse than my mom,” Ray chuckled.

Ryan grinned. “Did you brush your teeth?” he asked.

Ray rolled his eyes.

“You window is wide open, no wonder you’re catching a cold.” He put his hands on his hips. “And what about your hair? Ray, what did I tell you? You need to comb your hair before you go out.”  He tousled Ray’s hair.

Ray was laughing now, and he pushed Ryan’s hand away. “Okay, I get it.”

Ryan grabbed his hand. “Good. It’s not mothering you. It’s caring about you.”

Ray’s smiled slowly faded. Ryan cared about him. He watched their hands, and he turned them slowly, intertwining them. His heart pounded.

He looked to see Ryan’s reaction, but Ryan was staring at him, eyes wide, for the first time in a long time at a loss for words.

And then Ryan was leaning in, their lips touching, and Ray pulled him close. The kiss was rough; like really rough, but then again Ray couldn’t remember the last time he’d been with someone, and Ryan never talked about being with someone ever, so it made sense.

He was breathing heavily very quickly, the fatigue from his fever making him feel lightheaded. Or was it the fact that he was making out with Ryan in his bedroom in the middle of the night? He didn’t know. He didn’t care.

Ray pulled back, catching his breath. He stumbled a little and Ryan caught him. Ray said nothing, only leaned his head forward against Ryan’s chest.

“That was…” Ryan began, faltering.

“Nice,” Ray finished. He looked up at Ryan, and had to bite back a smile; Ryan’s cheeks were _so_ fucking red.

Ryan stepped back, hand grabbing the doorknob. “Sorry, do you want me to—“

“No no no.” Ray grabbed his arm. “Stay.”

Ryan looked at Ray’s hand after a hesitation, and nodded. As if a switch had been flipped, he reverted back to his cocky self. “You’re not gonna get kinky with me, are you?” He wriggled his eyebrows.

Ray rolled his eyes, pulling back the sheets on his bed. “Don’t make it awkward. Just fucking lay with me.”

Ryan laughed, and Ray laid down on his bed, heartbeat escalating when Ryan wrapped his arms around him. “You know Geoff will fucking destroy us if he catches us like this in the morning, right?” Ryan mused.

“Then I guess you better wake up early,” Ray replied, taking his glasses off and putting them on his nightstand.

…

Michael woke up to the morning sunlight hitting him directly in the face.

He shut his eyes tight, trying to bury his face back into the covers, only for his glasses to smash directly into the bridge of his nose.

He let out curse, straightening and shifting in his bed—when did it get so small?—and reaching for his phone he usually kept on his nightstand.

Something soft and warm met his fingertips.

Slowly, he blinked his eyes open, and found himself face to face with another body, eyes closed and chest rising and falling underneath a blanket. His hair was sticking up in funny places, but it shined like gold in the yellow light.

Suddenly, Michael remembered last night. The nightmare. Gavin crying again. Falling asleep on the couch next to him. All of this he recalled with a strange fondness.

_Shit, but what if someone saw them?_

He scrambled off of the couch, glancing around the living room. Empty.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. In front of him Gavin shifted, his shirt riding up above his navel. Michael couldn’t help but stare at the tattoo at his side, those goddamn numbers. Then he looked up at Gavin’s face, tan and striking.

Michael looked away. What the fuck was he doing? Everything about this whole situation was so completely new to him that he didn’t know how to react.

Frustrated, Michael stood up and headed to the kitchen, deciding that a can of Red Bull would clear his mind. It was only 7 am, but he could manage. 

He opened the fridge and popped open a can, taking a long drink.

 A faint buzzing sound echoed across the kitchen.

Frowning, Michael glanced at the counter. Geoff’s phone buzzed against the granite.

Now, usually Michael wasn’t one to snoop, especially on Geoff, but the buzzing continued on. And if it was an important phone call, he sure as hell wasn’t about to have a pissed off Geoff ask him why he didn’t answer the phone.

Michael grabbed the phone, glancing around to see if anyone was in the room. He looked at the caller ID only to find a blocked number. A red flag went off in his head; but considering Geoff was a crime lord, he figured calls like this could be frequent.

He slid his thumb over the screen and put the phone up to his ear. “Hello?”

There was the sound of static, and the line went dead.

Frowning, Michael put the phone back on the counter. He made a mental note to remind Ryan to take a look at the phone later.

“Who was that?”

Michael turned around, looking at a sleepy-eyed Gavin. His borrowed shirt hung loosely on his shoulders, a size too big.

Michael shrugged. “Some fucking prankster probably.”

“Oh.” Gavin leaned against the fridge.

“How’s your side?” Michael asked.

“Fine,” Gavin replied, smiling cheekily.

Michael frowned. “What?”

“Nothing. It’s just that every time you talk to me you ask me about my side.” Gavin grinned.

Michael scowled, heat rising from his cheeks. “Well fuck me for being nice.”

“Yeah, fuck you,” Geoff suddenly appeared in the kitchen, yawning. He gestured for Gavin to get out of the way of the fridge, giving him a less than nice shove when he didn’t move fast enough. He peering into the fridge, frowning. “Which one of you assholes has been drinking my liquor?”

Michael snickered as Gavin eyes widened.  

“If you didn’t want someone to drink your beer, I told you to put your goddamn name on it,” Jack responded, lumbering into kitchen. He hastily started the coffee machine.

“That’s ridiculous. Are you telling me that I, Geoff Ramsey, kingpin of the most successful gang in the country, have to put my name on my drinks like a _fucking five-year-old?”_ Geoff protested.

“When you act like one, yes!” Jack shot back.

Michael met Gavin’s gaze and they struggled to contain their smiles as Jack and Geoff argued back and forth. Michael was quite surprised by how used to Gavin’s company he was by now. Only a week and a few days had gone by since they first arrived at the Penthouse, but to Michael it felt like years. It left a comfortable feeling inside him.

“No one else puts their name on their shit!” Geoff complained.

Jack rolled his eyes. “Are you fucking kidding me? Ray has an entire shelf filled with junk food with his name on it! He even put his name _on the shelf!”_  

“That’s different. Ray comes home with that garbage all the time. No one eats that shit but him.”

“His name is still on everything! How is that different?”

A ringing echoed through the air. Jack stopped shouting, grabbing the phone from his pocket. “Just shut the fuck up for a second. I’ve got a phone call.” Geoff flipped him off in response.

Michael felt a buzzing against his thigh. Frowning, he reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone. The number was blocked, but it seemed all too familiar. “Me too.”

“Geoff,” Gavin said hesitantly. He pointed towards the counter.

Geoff looked behind him, eyes widening when he saw his phone buzzing as well. All signs of joking left his face. “What the fuck…” he picked it up, not answering it yet.

Michael looked up, exchanging glances with all of them. He knew this couldn’t be a coincidence.

“I’ll get Ryan and Ray,” Jack said quickly, leaving the kitchen.

“Wait. It’s about to go to voicemail.” Geoff watched his phone while Michael and Gavin looked and Michael’s phone. Jack paused at the doorway, doing the same with his.

The phone stopped ringing, showing a missed call symbol. For about five seconds, nothing happened.

Then the phones began to ring again.

Geoff’s frowned deepened. He looked up at Jack, nodding. “Go get them right now. Have Ryan start up his computer. Clearly, someone is trying to get ahold of us.”

Michael caught the almost inaudible swallow from Gavin, and his anger flamed for a second. He knew Gavin knew who was calling them, and yet he said nothing. _Nothing._

Geoff sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Come along boys. Let’s see who the fuck wants to talk to us.”

…

Five minutes later, the six men sat the dining room table, five phones all ringing at the same time.

Jack watched as Ryan busily typed away at his laptop. The ringing hadn’t stopped in the duration of time, and it left him with a feeling of uneasiness. For one, these phones used numbers that they’d consider to be their personal numbers. Other numbers were used for setting up meetings with other gangs, or while conducting a heist.

The fact that they were all ringing at the same time wasn’t exactly comforting either.

Jack threw a look at Ray, who had been staring intently at the table. He caught Jack’s eye for a second, face turning red, before looking away again.

Jack pursed his lips, fighting back a smile. When he went to go wake Ray up, he discovered that someone else was sleeping with him. This someone who happened to also be sitting at this table and typing busily at his laptop.

Just another thing for Jack to eventually speak with them about, but right now he decided to leave them in peace.

But then there was Michael, and Gavin, who had up until this point been basically adopted into the Crew. He could tell with every exchange that Michael liked him. A lot. And frankly, Jack liked him too. Sure, he was clumsy, and sometimes didn’t make any sense, but it was endearing.

“Okay, Michael give me your phone,” Ryan said. Michael complied, and Ryan plugged it in to his computer. “Okay. We’re set. I can’t track the number now, but when Michael answers his phone, we should know the number and location within a couple of minutes. Until then, just keep whoever it is on the line.”

“What about the other phones?” Ray asked.

Ryan shrugged. “They might keep ringing. Or stop. Let’s find out.”

“Alright.” Geoff raised his hand. “Before we do this shit, remember; no one talks but Michael unless I say. Especially you, Gavin.”

Gavin nodded fiercely, his face sober.

“Ready, Ryan?” Jack asked.

Ryan nodded. “Whenever you want, Michael.”

Michael picked up his phone. Without hesitation, he answered the phone, putting it on speaker. “Hello?”

“Hello. Took you quite a long time to answer. Don’t you have any manners?” A female’s voice echoed through the room. In front of them, all of the phones stopped buzzing.

Ryan gave everyone a thumb’s up; the tracker was working. All Michael needed to do was keep talking.

“You’re one to talk. Who is this?” Michael asked dryly.

“The real question is who are _you_ , Michael Jones? Your fucking face is plastered all over the news, and yet they still haven’t been able to identify who you are. How is that possible? I mean, you’ve got to share your secret.” The female’s tone was almost flirtatious.

Jack frowned. Michael looked up at them, face shocked. The entire FBI had spent hours upon hours trying to identify him with no luck—how the fuck did this woman have his name? Did that mean they had Jack’s too, or any of the others?

Michael swallowed, continuing. “I’m not gonna ask again. Who the fuck are you?”

“Oh, how rude of me. I’m Lindsay”—at the sound of this Gavin breathed in sharply—“and I’ve kinda been causing you some trouble. And you’ve been doing the same. So I’m willing to make a proposal. Give me what I want, and we’ll leave you alone. You can stay in your nice little penthouse and it won’t be blown to smithereens like your mansion back in Austin. Or…we can handle this with explosives, and you won’t like it.”

Michael laughed. “Whatever. I doubt you can get to us before we snipe you the fuck out. We don’t have any money here, either, so even if you do blow us up you’re not getting shit.”

“One minute” Ryan mouthed. Jack nodded.

“Don’t be stupid. You know what we want. Or better yet, who.”

Silence as all eyes landed on Gavin.

“You don’t want that traitor anyways. The shit he’s done…why would you protect him?”

Michael raised an eyebrow. He looked at Gavin, who seemed to be slowly shrinking in his chair.

Jack frowned. This was the first time he ever heard of Gavin being a traitor. He knew that whatever Gavin did must’ve been bad, but betrayal? It was the one thing that the Crew never had to deal with; it was the unthinkable. The thought struck Jack again at how little they knew about Gavin. Was this Lindsay telling the truth?

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Michael spat.

“You mean he hasn’t told you? Of course not. He’s a coward. You’re on speaker, aren’t you? Why don’t you tell them, Gavin? Tell them how you betrayed all of us,” She commanded.

Gavin rapidly began to shake his head.

“Oh, come on. Talk, you bitch. These people deserve to know how much trouble you caused for them, and why. You must really hate them.”

“No...” Gavin whispered. “It’s not like that.”

“Shhh…” Jack said quietly.

“Whatever lies he told you to accept him are bullshit.” Lindsay scoffed. “He never cared about you.”

“It’s not like that!” Gavin blurted out.

_Fuck,_ Jack thought. He needed to end this now. “Gavin, calm—“

“She’s lying!” Gavin was near tears.

Lindsay laughed. “You’d think I make this up? Six million dollars. That’s how much you stole from us. And now you’re going to let more people die for you. You’re fucking sick.”  

“Five seconds,” Ryan warned.

“Look,” Geoff spoke up, ending all pretenses. “I don’t know what the fuck Gavin did but you in no way are going to hurt us. The glass is three inches thick and bulletproof. You’re not getting in here.”

“Sorry, but we already did.”

“I got it,” Ryan tapped at his computer. His eyes widened, and he looked up, focused on something behind Jack.

And that’s when Jack knew.

“Get down!” Jack was already on the floor, grabbing for the pistol he always kept on him, when the world erupted into white.

For a moment, Jack couldn’t see anything. His ears were ringing like crazy.

_Flash grenade_ , Jack thought. He blinked, and gradually, his eyesight came back.

The dining room table was flipped over, and Michael sat crouched behind it, shooting at something behind the living room couch. Next to him Geoff slowly got to his feet, grabbing a shotgun that was propped by the front door. Ryan had dove behind a shelf, searching frantically for something across the room.

And Gavin was nowhere to be found.

Pain stabbed at Jack’s elbow as a bullet knicked his arm. He maneuvered behind the table, loading his weapon. Geoff was saying something to him, but he couldn’t hear him.

Then Geoff was shaking him, and Jack could hear again all at once.

“Jack! Answer me, goddamn it!” Geoff shouted.

“I’m fine,” Jack responded. He noticed for the first time the cut at Geoff’s right temple. “Your head—“

“It’s fine! Shoot these jackasses!” Geoff ducked up for a second, blasting a bullet through their couch. Behind it, someone blindly shot with an assault rifle.

“Fuck!” Michael screamed, holding up a grenade.

“Michael, wait!” Jack screamed.

“Stop!” someone shouted. “I’ll kill him!”

At the sound of that Geoff paused. “Everybody stop,” he said, deadly calm. His gaze was on the couch.

Jack looked over, and his heart stopped.

Standing up from behind the couch was a young woman with dark red hair. She was dressed in fairly casual clothes, only a bullet proof vest over her t-shirt ruined the image. Next to her stood another woman with long blond hair, wearing similar clothing with a sniper rifle strapped to her back. An AK-47 was in her arms, pointed at them.

And in the other girl’s arms in a headlock, looking dazed and somewhat bewildered, was Ray.

The blonde pointed her gun at Ray’s head.

“No,” Jack muttered.

Ryan’s pistol shot up immediately. “Let him go.” Jack shivered at the tone of Ryan’s voice; it was downright murderous.

“Where’s Gavin?” the redhead asked. Jack recognized it to be the voice they were just speaking to.

“Lindsay, right?” Geoff asked, gun poised. “I swear to god if you shoot him I’ll fucking kill you and your little friend.”

Lindsay shrugged. “I dunno, Barbara. We could always make a trade. What do you think?”

Barbara pushed the gun against Ray’s temple. “Sounds good. Trade?”

Ray grimaced, but did nothing to even try to break free. He hung rather limply in her arms, like standing up was a struggle for him. What was wrong with him?

“Just give Gavin up!” Michael barked at Geoff. He was practically shaking with fury.

“We don’t know where he went!” Jack answered instead. It was true—the son of a bitch was nowhere to be found. Did that mean he really was a liar? Did he seriously fuck these people that bad?

Barbara tsked. “Damn. No trade then.”

The glass exploded behind them, and Jack got down as the building began to shake. Bullets began to ricochet off of everything, and he ducked behind the table, peeking out just enough to watch as a chopper came into focus just outside the broken window. He watched, helpless, as the girls loaded Ray onto the chopper.

“I’ll fucking kill you!” Michael screamed, shooting as they flew off, his pistol bullets doing nothing as they flew out of range.

Then the building stilled, and everything was silent.

Geoff dropped his gun, ending the stillness. “Fuck!” Geoff cursed. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!”

Jack’s mind was whirling. In under ten minutes, their hideout had been broken into, their living room destroyed, and Ray stolen. Ray…

Next to him Ryan stood. His face was somber, eyes intense. He looked calm, but Jack could see the whites if his knuckles as he gripped his gun, and the way he seemed to shake a little bit with every movement.

“Where is Gavin?” Ryan asked simply.

No one answered.

Michael stomped into the kitchen. After a few seconds, there was a sharp thud and Michael reappeared, dragging behind him a bleeding, banged-up Gavin. His shirt on his side was soaked through with blood, and judging by the amount it looked like his wound had reopened. Dirty tears stained his cheeks.

“I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry—“ He began to repeat over and over.

“Gavin…” Jack could feel his blood boiling, but he ignored it for now. He knew he had to be level-headed; no one else was going to be. “Who _are_ you?”

Gavin froze, and he swallowed hard. He spoke—spilling out the secret he’d been keeping since the beginning. “My full name is Gavin David Free. I was responsible for the largest heist ever pulled off in the US, and I stole twelve million dollars.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to hell.


End file.
